Battle Royale: A Game To Remember
by fallen11angel
Summary: The BR act has been modified, and so it becomes more entertaining for its many adult viewers. How will the disruptive teens of the new era endure this grueling game of survival? 40 Participants. 40 different personalities. 40 ways to die.
1. The Beginning To A Revolution

**Battle Royale – A Game To Remember**

_Prologue_

Disclaimer : I solemnly swear that I do not own the movie Battle Royale – or any of the ideas put into it – I do however, know that the characters and the way that things go for them is completely my idea, since I either made them up myself, or based it upon real events (none that occur to me, of course)

Summary : The BR act has been modified, and so it becomes more entertaining for its many adult viewers. How will the disruptive teens of the new era endure this grueling game of survival? 40 Participants. 40 different personalities. 40 ways to die.

So, on with the story...

* * *

_The static of the radio pitches into all sorts before a voice coughs loudly into the microphone; it's time for the Government to ensue their weekly radio broadcast. The static rises into a harrowing noise one more time, echoing amongst the silence of the listeners, before the broadcast finally begins…_

Not only has the number of teenage crimes gone up over the years – including gruesome massacres, vast suicides, skipping school and gang fights – but it has been doubling over the past few months of this New Year.

Schools are scarcely open nowadays and have been left to become abandoned sites - holding empty hallways, burnt down classrooms and rotting books within their once respected exteriors. Only very few countries in the world still have perfectly normal and still running compulsory education, so basically there is no hope left.

One by one the most developed countries in the world fall to terrorism and intense poverty, leaving their corrupt Governments to turn to the only solution left untried and at hand: The New BR Act. Deriving from Japan, almost a decade ago, the modified act has proven to, not only discipline the few remaining uninfluenced teenagers, but also halting the collapse of the country altogether – once more, the balance has been restored in the BR practicing countries. The children now fear and respect their grown ups.

After taking in and adapting the BR act, America has been making progress with restraining their teenagers from bringing upon mass destruction and chaos. Each year, a class is chosen at random to play the game, much to the entertainment of millions of the country's residents. And each year, only one student survives after being traumatically forced into killing their friends for the safety of their own lives. A selfish game of blood, tears and survival – there is no guaranteed chance of living through to the end.

But what do you win, what could you possibly gain from surviving the death match that could either continue or end your short-lived life? That is, you don't get anything; you are thrown back into the reality of the world, left with only your dying conscious and the memories of all your dead friends, whose lives you've sacrificed for your very own.

Last year, Sarah Field, won the battle outstandingly, showing no signs of mercy whatsoever for any of her victims. Unfortunately, as a waste of her survival and her great potential, she committed suicide shortly after being declared winner of the fight, finishing in a record time of exactly 36 hours. Oh well, her loss. But now, there is a new act, simply because… the old one got boring. Can this year's set of lucky hopefuls cope with such an enjoyable task?

America has entered a new revolution, a new era and nothing, repeat, _nothing _can stop it. A new dawn has been revealed, a fate for the youths of the country – "_all you can do is kill, or be killed._"

_The haunting voice on the radio rings in the listeners ears before the broadcast ends, leaving nothing but the silent absence of words and the sound of pitchy static once again._


	2. The Lucky Victims

**Battle Royale – A Game To Remember**

_The Class Register_

* * *

Male:

1. Dean Acre

2. Riley Brown

3. Eddie Campbell

4. James Day

5. Sam Gates

6. Charlie Hallman

7. Chris Jones

8. Leon Kennedy

9. Steven Kingman

10. Peter Mayes

11. Patrick Newport

12. Zach Parker

13. Jared Ridge

14. Danny Robinson

15. Freddy Scott

16. Mark Smith

17. Fay Takeo

18. Matthew Waite

19. Nathan Wakefield

20. Thomas Wood

Females:

1. Anneliese Ackles

2. Lucy Allen

3. Megan Bourne

4. Jessica Brooks

5. Emma Cliffe

6. Claire Edwards

7. Madison Holmes

8. Joyce Louise

9. Phoebe Miller

10. Ashley Pierre

11. Taylor Queen

12. Faith Rose

13. Elizabeth Ryder

14. Valerie Summers

15. Isabella Thompson

16. Hannah Timothy

17. Andrea Underwood

18. Ellie Victoria

19. Olivia Warred

20. Sophie Young


	3. Sensing Signs Of Doubt

**Battle Royale – A Game To Remember**

_Chapter One_

* * *

Valerie Summers (Girl 14) let out a deep, exhausted exhale as she gathered her belongings and stuffed them into her ragged, faded blue mailbag: taking care to keep all her school books, as perfectly neat as she could keep them. She looked around at her surroundings and found that indeed, all her classmates had already succeeded in exiting the room with great haste, leaving her to continue fixing her things as the noisy scratching of chairs died down into an easing silence – well, almost.

"Hey Val! There you are!" Anneliese Ackles (Girl 1) shouted, as she poked her head around the doorway of the classroom; her fingers tracing the ancient, wooden frame. Valerie jumped in slight fright at the alerting tone of her voice, and after resuming to her ordinary self, stood up from her own seat as she began to make her way towards the girl that stood close by.

Valerie cocked up an eyebrow at her best friend in question, "Yeah yeah. What's the rush?" She asked, looking at the tired girl who seemed to be panting, due to the run from somewhere all the way to this classroom. Valerie left her to regain her breath as she threw her school bag over her right shoulder, pushing back her black-rimmed glasses up her nose to see clearer. Cautiously, she walked around Anneliese to get into the corridor and looked around nervously once she arrived there. Surely enough, Valerie was known for being the all time smart, good girl who _always_ followed the rules. The only thing she strived for with all her dedication were perfect grades, so if she didn't receive the right marks, she would consider herself a major failure... but don't be fooled, she's not extremely high maintenance.

A smile played onto her delicate lips as she stood corrected, indeed the corridor was not still busy, it had already emptied by then as the students had already disappeared through the double blue doors and had made their own ways toward home. She nodded slightly as she turned back to her friend.

"Didn't you hear the notices this morning?" Anneliese retorted, adjusting the bag on her back as she spoke and wiping off a small layer of sweat on her top lip.

"_As if_ I listen to the notices." She replied, snorting to herself, as her inquisitive eyes darted around the area.

Anneliese laughed at her statement, "Val, sometimes you're a smart ass with no brains." She said, smirking to herself as Valerie laughed along with her.

"So, what did the notice say?"

"It said that the seniors, _us_, will be having another after school detention today! What a bummer!" She paused for a moment, and looked somewhat thoughtful before continuing on, "Well, it's probably the plastics' fault again, I mean they just can't shut up in class, can they? But I guess there is something good about all of it, and his name is Dean Acre!She yelled excitedly, punching her fists into the air in joy.

"What?" Valerie asked, more to herself than to Anneliese, she looked deep in contemplation before she shrugged her shoulders, "Anyways, it's just another freakin' detention. I mean, we've been having one, everyday, after school for the past few weeks." She let out a sigh, and for a moment all that entered her ears were the faint sound of their sneakers against the floor.

"Sure, but another great thing about it all – I get one whole hour of Dean!" She said, referring to Dean Acre (Boy 1) again.

Basically, the rules of the afternoon detention were simple (for those of the seniors who actually knew how to understand plain English): there would be no talking, no laughing, no chewing or doing anything "silly." Everyone would have to sit with their alphabetical pair (which would explain Anneliese's behavior, since she sat right beside Dean) and they would be closely watched by their extremely creepy head mistress, _ergh_, it was enough to make anyone shudder.

One whole hour wasted of anyone's life.

"Shut up, you're so obsessed with him!" Valerie answered, rolling her eyes as they both passed by the numerous lockers on their way towards the school hall, where the detentions would usually take place.

"No way, I'm not obsessed! I'm merely highly preoccupied with him," She smirked again, crossing her arms over her chest smugly, "At least I'm not deeply in love with _Freddy Scott_ (Boy 15)!" She shouted, making smooching noises before breaking into a hysterical laughter. Valerie blushed heavily and looked around nervously, clearly not wanting to be found out.

"Oh my God! Shush before anyone hears you!" She begged, clutching onto her friend's arm, who presently, was still laughing. She tried desperately to get Anneliese to shut the hell up before anyone heard her.

"What? Come on Val! I was just kidding, it's not like anyone heard it anyway." She said, putting up her hands in mock surrender, holding back her giggles.

"Yeah, I get the point." Valerie mumbled. She looked ahead and saw the doors of the hall growing larger with each step they took towards it; she exhaled with aggravation, before long, they had already reached it. The faint noise of chatter could be heard as it seeped through from the interior. She took a one last fleeting look at her best friend, seeing her face light up in realization of were they were, before she placed a hand onto the stiff wooden doors and gave them a strong shove.

With great reluctance, she took a peak and finally walked inside, quickly taking her place amongst her fellow classmates.

* * *

Freddy Scott was known at school as being one of the band guys, and they were right in that sense, as he was in a band. He was a drummer, to be more precise, and every aspect of his life related to his love for music; because honestly, it was better than anything in his life - or at least it was better than anything but for one girl. He almost felt himself laugh at what he had just thought, _ha, a girl, _what was he thinking. He was a rare talker, only expressing his opinion when necessary, which definitely classified him as the mysterious type and made him desirable amongst the girls in his grade. But he didn't really care for them. It was all about the music.

He shifted in his chair after just snapping out of his thoughts, and placing his chin on his propped up arm; not too long ago had he just seen Valerie Summers walk in and take her assigned seat in front of his. He figured that if he just reached out far enough, he could touch her hair or get her attention somehow. Not that he really wanted to of course…

He bit his lip and looked around the room which had fell just into silence, checking if the head teacher was paying attention before he stretched forward and tapped Valerie's shoulder before he could stop himself.

Immediately, she spun around, as her long dark hair spilt over her shoulders with ease and she gave him a questioning look. He gave her a pathetic attempt for a smile and saw her confused look soften a bit. "Hi." He whispered as quietly as he could to her, leaning forward on his table.

She took a quick look at the head teacher before facing him again, "Hi to you too." She replied as quietly as him.

"You bored?" He asked, sneaking a peak over her shoulder and catching a glimpse of a few doodles in her notebook, his lips curved into his usual smirk.

She nodded an agree and a small smile appeared on her own lips, surely she recognized that smirk of his and figured he was just using her to satisfy his boredom, "Come on Scott, get back to your own business before Miss-creepy over there catches you." She said, smiling shyly and then turning back around to her desk.

He sighed as he smiled again, leaning back on his chair he heard it creak under him in protest and he placed his arms behind his head to stretch. This was going to be an extra long detention without having anyone to talk to. Freddy twisted around to look at Isabella Thompson (Girl 15) who was currently seated next to him, and from what he saw, she appeared to be sleeping. He threw away the idea of talking to her with annoyance, and inwardly praised her for doing something worthy of passing time; after a while, took out his Ipod, hoping to listen to some good rock tunes to waste the time. All the time his eyes reverting back to a certain girl in the room.

_Sure, it was all about the music. _

* * *

Joyce Louise (Girl 8) laid her head on the table, in utter boredom. She shut her eyes tight to try and get some sleep, like Isabella seemed to be doing with much simplicity, but much to her disappointment she failed miserably several times.

Her eyes shot open, and as she sat up straight again, she let out an irritated groan. "Stupid detention..." She muttered to herself, not caring to be heard by the teacher since she sat right at the back of the hall. Sitting next to her was Leon Kennedy (Boy 8) – Winchester High's typical hot guy. Naturally, he had the dirty blonde hair which fell over his eyes on perfect cue, and the unsurpassed stunning faded blue eyes, but Joyce remained to be one of the only girls who didn't think of him as any more than a friend. There's only one good reason for it too, and that's because she had a boyfriend, he was called Danny Robinson (Boy 14).

They had known each other since the age of 10, and they had been tremendously great friends too. Joyce was the pretty, laid back girl that liked to laugh a lot, and Danny was, almost likewise, the cute, shy guy who proved to be fun, once you really got to know him. They had always been a perfect match; they were both the athletic type and had gotten to know each other everyday, after school during athletics training. It was only since last year that Danny professed to her that he wanted to be something more, after finally plucking up the courage to tell her how he felt, and of course Joyce agreed to it since she felt the same. Ever since then, that's how things remained and so far, their relationship was going well – they always proved to amuse, since they looked like a pair of love struck fools most of the time. But that didn't really matter.

Joyce caught Danny's eye from across the room and gestured a hello to him. He in return grinned and gave her an awkward wave.

"You going anywhere after school?" Danny mouthed to her, his hands animating his silent sentence.

Joyce held back a laugh and shook her head, answering him a quick no and that she was completely free after school. Danny grinned further at her reply and continued in asking her, or mouthing to her, if she was willing to go out with him after the detention was over. As far as their usual routines go, Joyce and Danny would go out somewhere after school, so evidently, she was not going to miss out the one today.

Most people believed that she was the only person that he would ever be comfortable in opening up to; after all, he was still the shy boy from school. That's how you're classified and usually there was very little you could do about it.

After a few more silently entertaining moments of "sign languaging" random messages to one another, both felt no need to feel any boredom anymore and after Joyce accidentally let out a small giggle, she saw Valerie Summers peer at her suspiciously from next to Danny.

She stopped abruptly and placed a hand over mouth to muffle her laugh, giving Valerie a wave with the other. Valerie, in return, smiled and waved back, giving Danny a slight nod before returning back to doodle or whatever she was doing. She never had been a fan of talking to boys.

Joyce and Valerie had been good friends since they first met, and as the saying goes "opposites attract" because that is what they really are. Joyce, being the active one and Valerie acting as more of the brains, both fitted each other like two halves of a puzzles.

The seniors; as far as the brain can work out, are actually a close group who are mostly friends - excluding those who wished to remain alone, for sure. You could either say, that there was no way you could separate these teenagers from one another or that it would be perfectly easy to do so if the right conditions were put upon them.

But that, was a more than harrowing thought.

* * *

"Psst, Taylor." Ashley Pierre (Girl 10) whispered, turning around in her seat, perfectly eager to talk to her friend Taylor Queen (Girl 11) who was seated behind her.

Taylor looked up from painting her nails a bright scarlet color, and raised an eyebrow at the girl in front of her. She flung back her platinum blonde, long hair behind her shoulder and leant forward to hear whatever the other girl had to say.

"Check out Leon hottie over there." Ashley murmured, pointing a finger discretely in his direction. She licked her lips unconsciously, and smirked with her baby pink lips. For a minute or two, she looked dreamy but then she turned to Taylor, waiting keenly for her response.

If there was one thing people ought to know about Taylor, then it would be that she was queen of the plastics - much like her surname proves her to be. She was the head of the little group of girly bitches, and was worshipped by a majority of the younger girls at school, but not all of them, especially not by the senior girls. To be honest, everyone knows the drill, every school has its set of plastics and it was no different in this one. They were cold, hard, and plastic.

Taylor spun around to look at Leon, "God, wouldn't you just wanna eat him up." She said to herself, before turning back around to Ashley, biting her lip.

Ashley, after hearing what she had just said, nodded as if it was a crime to disagree with her, and returned to gaping at the poor guy, "Why do you think he doesn't wanna go out with any of us pretty girls? You think he's gay?" She asked, pouting in her usual behavior, and drumming the top of the chair she was sitting on.

"Ergh, no. He's definitely not," Taylor paused momentarily to glance at him again, "I think he's just refusing to admit that he likes me, I mean… who doesn't?" She crooned, in a vain sort of annoying tone. She even took the time to eye up every boy in the hall from the corner of her eye, trying to sort them into categories of whether they were datable and undatable. She smirked mischievously, once she decided she had finished.

Ashley seemed to be in thought, before she answered her unsurely, "I think a lot guys don't." She proceeded in pouting more, and twirling a strand of her curly, short blonde hair.

Taylor's gazed snapped instantly from Leon to Ashley with great speed, and it showed that she was fuming, as if she was almost looked ready to slap the girl. She took a glimpse at the Head mistress before looking reluctant to persist her original idea of doing so, "Funny joke, really. Don't be such a bitch and just admit that you're jealous of me."

Ashley's mouth dropped down into a perfect "o" before she shrugged at her statement. Man, did she have guts to stand up to her; anyone with a brain knew that it would be best to stay out of Taylor's way - out of anyone's way who had the likelihood of being violent.

"I'm not a bitch and I'm not jealous _of you_!" Ashley stage whispered angrily, then returning to her seat with extreme irritancies – anyone knew that before long, they would be friends again – since their whole world for show was about popularity and appearances. So basically, this argument was nothing new, but frustrating nonetheless.

A deep voice emerged from beside her, shocking Taylor for an instant, distracting her from glaring at the back of Ashley's head, "Fucking hell, both of you blonde bloody idiots can not just shut up!" Patrick Newport (Boy 11) moaned, his posh British accent making his threat seem more frightening, from where he was seated next to Taylor. His facial expression held such annoyance yet his cold glare was still affixed upon the table. Patrick's hands clenched into a fist and immediately Taylor froze at his tone.

Comic thing to see, really, a school rebel versus school plastic.

Taylor decided to retreat, giving him one shrill "Humph!" before facing the other way from him, resuming her duty of painting her nails – stanching the air with its intoxicating scent. The room fell over a long silence once more, just as it had begun, and for a split second or so, all you could really hear were the students breathing in slight simultaneousness and the scratching of a few pens on paper.

Wordlessly, the minutes passed on for the bored students of Winchester High. It definitely was going to be a long afternoon.

* * *

"Class!" Mrs. Johnson, the head mistress yelled loudly, causing her voice to bounce fiercely off the surrounding walls and making the students jump in surprise. She tapped her foot impatiently whilst she checked her watch, and clearing her throat roughly. All heads in the room turned to look at her, despite the eeriness about her.

The hour had passed by relatively slowly for the students on another hot summer afternoon stuck at school. It could have been spent doing something of leisure or importance, but the punishment for the class to pull themselves together, regardless of the lack of effect.

They flinched as she looked down at them sinisterly and there was another long silence before she began to speak again, her arm dropping to her side after she was done studying her watch, "I think it's time I dismissed you, and I can't wait any further." She hissed in an impatient tone, her foot continuing to tap a steady intolerant rhythm.

The students exchanged bewildered or mocking looks, yet none of them attempted to leave in any manner, they just remained glued to their seats – Mrs. Johnson was acting more suspicious than the usual dose – so they were not very sure whether to take her seriously. Nevertheless, she maintained her locked gaze with them and a ghostly smile appeared on her face, "I might as well tell you now, that this will be the last of our lovely afternoon detentions." Another pause as she straightened up, "I believe, I have found you something much better to do with your precious time." She carried on, her voice stern but quiet; the students grew more uneasy as the smile grew wider on her stale, emotionless face.

A few people began to get up and gather their belongings, hoping very much to get out of this awkward situation as fast as humanly possible. The head teacher watched with hungry eyes as they did so. She tried to make a sympathetic face at the sight of them leaving, but it only proved to look even more peculiar.

"Come on! Quickly now, I trust you students have one last school bus to catch." She continued, walking towards the door for the exit, "I'll see you tomorrow morning. Sharp." Her voice haunted the hall once more time, before she gave the class one last ominous look and departing, with a loud clapping of her pencil heeled shoes against the wooden floor. Indubitably, those heels would scratch the beautifully polished floor, she was just another dent in the development of civilization.

Once she had disappeared, the students rushed out of the hall, in the expectation of her coming back if they didn't leave soon. They broke into a murmur of noise, some chatting casually, some questioning the teacher's strange behavior, and some just laughing at a joke of some sort – the usual teenage noise which could be heard if around them.

In a large group, unusually enough, they all walked together towards the schools main doors where they all knew they could catch the last bus home. This might be the only time, which these teenagers would spend time and stand in the same area as one another. All cliques joined into one momentarily in the events of the day.

"Hey Joyce," Danny began as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, "What do you think Mrs. So-creepy meant about all that in the hall?" He asked curiously.

"Hmm, I actually don't know," She replied, cocking her head up to look him in the face; she met with his anxious and quizzical eyes, "Danny, hey! Don't worry about it 'kay? She's just in one of those extra weird moods today." She placed an arm around his waist as they pushed past the double blue doors leading outside.

Danny nodded, letting it go quickly and avoiding all signs that lead to doubt. The summer heat caused their skin to produce a small layer of sweat and almost instantly their clothes began to feel more clammy and claustrophobic. The couple began to make their way out of the school parking lot - nearly escaping the grasps of school and discipline.

"Hey Dan!" Thomas Wood (Boy 20) yelled from behind them, "Where you two going?"

The couple turned around and let go of each other, as Danny took a step forward to his friend, "Um, we were just going to walk." He answered.

Thomas threw them a look of understanding before furrowing his brow and speaking again, "Oh come on guys. You never take the bus anymore; just get off a stop later or something." He said, pulling at his collar in the heat of the sun.

Danny gave him an apologetic look and turned to look at Joyce, who was looking at Thomas too but kindheartedly. Joyce peered past their still-waiting friend and saw the other students making their way onto the bus, she looked taken aback when she saw Andrea Underwood (Girl 17) running towards the their direction. The girl panted slightly, stopping just before she got onto the bus and turning to look at the three of them.

Andrea cast them a small smile, "Hey Joyce, are you planning on walking? Because, all the gates seem to be shut, sorry to break it you guys." She shrugged and hopped onto the bus, probably now as use of her only route home.

Joyce turned back to Thomas and saw him with a questioning look, his eyes asking the question for him again.

She shrugged and sighed in consent, "Fine, we'll get the bus." To which Danny and Thomas beamed, hurrying towards the bus with her trailing behind. "But, how is the bus going to get out of school when all the gates are locked," She began to query yet again, but was interrupted by Danny grabbing hold of her hand and pulling her up the steps of the bus.

"Joyce stop questioning everything, remember what you said. Come on lets grab a seat."

"But, something's not right Danny."

He gave her a comforting look and squeezed her hand, "Don't worry, everything will be fine."

Joyce bite her lip, nodding but inside sensing disagree. She sat down by a window and Danny next to her, leaning forward to talk to Thomas, seated in front of them. Thomas, other than Joyce, was also considered one of Danny's best friends; he too was present during athletics training and had grown to be good friends with the two of them. Before long, the doubt within Joyce faded and she joined the conversation at hand with great ease.

The bus' engine revved before starting noisily, and heading towards the main gates.

* * *

"Look there, the gates are actually open! Andrea, you liar!" Anneliese said, slapping her on the arm playfully before pointing out the window.

"What?" She asked in return, hurrying towards the window and placing her hands on its cool transparent material, "I swear it wasn't open earlier… Ouch!" She yelled, sitting back down and rubbing her head. She saw on the floor a crumpled paper airplane and turned around, confirming that some boys had thrown it at her head, she glared as they sniggered at her.

"You boys are jerks!" Andrea shouted at them, pouting.

"Hold up! Not all guys are jerks." Fay (Boy 17) said, sitting himself down next to her with a smile on his face. Fay was easily the nicest person in class, he was always looking out for people – and was the only person liked by everyone, even the plastics. He never failed to have a sweet smile on his face.

"Fine, you're the only one that's not a jerk." She told him, crossing her arms across her chest and sinking into the chair.

Fay's smile widened and as he tilted his head to the side, his blonde hair curtained his eyes proving to be a common quality of his. Even though his dad was a budding engineer from Japan, and his mother was all time American girl next door, he certainly didn't look very much Asian. It was probably only his eyes that gave this away, due to their shape. Overall, he was a light skinned, blonde and green eyed guy who was definitely attractive, as well as kind.

Andrea proceeded in tearing her eyes away from him as he turned to look in her direction again, she pouted further, "God, how can you always be so happy and nice, and like sunshine, lollipops and rainbows." She said in a sarcastic tone, as she normally spoke, since she was the rocker with a slight emo personality.

Her nails were painted black, she wore eyeliner and her hair was well, cool. She had that dark side to her, but generally she was really pleasant, if you looked past the sarcastic remarks.

Fay chuckled again, "I know you like me really."

Her eyes widened, at the thought of being found out, but then she succeeded in concealing it perfectly. Only she, and she alone knew that had liked Fay for years, regardless of their opposite personalities. Whatever happened no one was ever to find out.

She licked her lips, and smirked, "On the contrary actually, you disgust me."

Fay gasped in mock surprise, "Oh come on, isn't that a bit harsh." He said leaning closer to her, and touching her arm lightly.

Andrea, in a paranoid response, jumped back and put up her hands out of his reach, "Whoa! What the hell was that!" She said, raising her voice.

Fay laughed and clutched at his sides, "You're so paranoid, my little rocker girl. Sometimes you just need to sit back and relax." He then continued in sinking into the chair and placing his interlocked hands behind his head. He threw her a smile, and Andrea thanked her makeup that he wouldn't be able to see her blush. She laughed nervously and stared out of the window as they passed by perfect and large suburban houses.

Something inside her told her that his bus wasn't going to stop soon.

* * *

"Cheese!" There was a blinding flash and snap sound.

"What the hell, Hannah?" Some people screamed.

"Cheese!" There was another flash.

"Hannah, stop that!" Some more people yelled.

"Cheese!" Yet another blinding explosion of light.

"Hannah, what are you doing?" Valerie shouted, shielding her eyes and blinking to get the purple circles out of her vision. Once she had recovered, she looked up and as expected, she saw Hannah Timothy (Girl 16) in front of her, a Polaroid camera in her hands, and taking photos of people before giving it to them.

Hannah was, as you can tell, a photographer and even though she was irritating at times when she took pictures, they turned out exceptionally well. That camera of hers never failed to be found draped around her shoulder or neck; it was almost like one of her assets.

"My dear Valerie, I'm just handing out memories here." There was a buzzing sound as the photograph she had just taken printed out, Hannah pulled it out and shook it vigorously. She grinned upon seeing it once it was finished developing, "Have a good day!" She chirped.

She handed Valerie the Polaroid before bounding off to find some more victims to take pictures of. Valerie watched her go around and was shocked when she heard a familiar voice beside her, breathing lightly on her neck due to their proximity.

"Don't we look good together?"

She turned around a little, and saw Freddy leaning forward over the bar of her seat; he smirked when their eyes met. She tried to avoid the fact that her cheeks were growing hotter, she sucked in a breathe to regain her composure.

"What?" She asked in confusion.

"I said, we look like a good couple." He answered, pointing to the picture that lay forgotten in her hands as he placed an arm around her shoulders, posing a casual couple sort of gesture.

Valerie looked down and saw the picture; she lifted it up into her line of vision and studied it carefully. She then understood what Freddy had been saying; there in the photo, was Valerie staring out of the window and Freddy seated behind, gaping at her with a small smile of his lips, a change from that smirk he often wore.

Valerie smiled faintly at the picture but then felt Freddy's hot stare burning against her skin, she put the picture down and shrugged his arm off her shoulders, "You wish Scott." She scooted down the chair and returned to looking outside.

Freddy laughed and got out of his seat to sit beside her. An awkward silence stretched between them, and for some time all that could be heard in their surroundings, was the sound of teenage banter and foolery. "So, we don't really talk much…" He said, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

Valerie toyed with the Polaroid in her hands and looked up at him, "Why? Are we supposed to?"

He shrugged and his smirk reappeared, "I don't know. Maybe we should."

Valerie sighed, trying to throw away the fact that Freddy Scott will always be the same old Freddy Scott, "Sometimes you're so confusing Scott. I don't know why I bother." She handed him the photo and after looking at it one last time, he pocketed it in the back of his pants along with his drum sticks.

He looked shocked to be told off so quickly and sat closer; he decided to put the mood back into something more different, "What's the deal with you always calling me by my last name anyway? Just say Freddy, its not hard. Fre-ddy." He chimed.

Valerie was about to retort something smart but suddenly, the views outside became hazy, and all the colors blurred together into one mighty splash of mess. Valerie shook her head and squinted to try and focus on something, but her eyesight only grew worse. She turned to face him but she could only just about make out his outline, she peered at him and Freddy, upon feeling somewhat light headed, became worried.

"Val?" Freddy asked, "Are you okay?"

"I feel so dizzy…"

"What? Maybe you're tired." He stated more to himself than to her, he shook his head to regain himself. He certainly was the type of person who wouldn't say they were feeling unwell, even if they were, and that was thanks to his to some extent, overgrown stubborn personality.

Valerie turned towards him even more groggily and started to sway unsteadily, "Freddy?" She called out, frightened.

He took hold of her shoulders to stabilize her, as well as himself, instinctively she grabbed onto his arms to stay sitting upright. He looked around and found that everyone was falling unconscious one by one. The bus had began to fill slowly with a hazy looking gas, he saw at the front, the bus driver continue to stay conscious due to the mask he was wearing. The ever growing smell of drugs in the air really wasn't helping, and it was unthinkable to why it happening, the remaining conscious students began to panic. They began to scrabble around, screaming and trying to wake their other friends up until eventually they fell to the gas too.

Freddy felt that inside, horror erupted within him, he wasn't going to give in to this - no way!

"Val!" He yelled, shaking her wildly, "Wake up! Don't leave me!"

"Freddy.." She whispered, her grasp on him tightening one last time, before she fell into his arms, limp and finally unconscious.

"Valerie!" He continued to shake her, as if she would wake up if he did, but obviously, she didn't. He wrapped his arms around her lifeless body and pulled her into a more easy position. He pushed the hair off her face and began to cough, as he felt the gas invading his consumed lungs.

"Wake up..." He then, fell back onto the chair, almost hitting his head against the floor of the vehicle, as the drugs finally got to him. He looked around one last time, catching a short glimpse of everyone asleep in the bus and Valerie, like everyone else, laying motionless before him. Before he could do anything with his last ounce of strength, he was dragged into the dark as his eyes shut tight into a deep unconsciousness.

He had fallen, just as everyone else had done before him.

* * *

_A/N :_ Well, well, there you go, the official first chapter of the Battle Royale. It isn't quite the action yet, but its just a brief filler of the different cliques and personalities in this little class of teens. If you want to call it a bit more of the Prologue, than do whatever you want. Anyway, please review, because that will be the main reason for me to continue this fanfic. Apart from the fact that I'm having fun writing it...

Sorry, it took so long to update, but mostly I try to upload a new chapter each week. So I'll try to stick to that. Well, enjoy and tell me what you think. Please review.

SlasherFanatic26, Galantria, MATTWEEKS, thanks so much for your reviews so far.. you guys are awesome!! And yes, your stories are awesome too, I shall review them when I get the chance. Thats all for now. I really must update this chapter soon.

-Fallen11angel


	4. We're Getting There

**Battle Royale – A Game To Remember**

_Chapter Two_

* * *

Dean awoke with a full-fledged start and within seconds his deep blue eyes shot open, revealing to him the ceiling of the school bus. It was cream and its paint was slowly peeling. He squinted at it, as his hand instantly grasped onto a lock of his dirty blonde hair, and he rubbed at his aching forehead – had he been sleeping all this time?

Dean groaned, rolling over onto his side and trying to rack his brain for an answer to his absence of memory. Again, it failed him.

"What the hell happened?" He murmured, sitting and picking himself up from his laying position on the seat. His ribs ached immensely causing him to flinch to some extent. He continued to rub at his head, hoping with sincerity that the pain would disappear if he carried on doing so. Dean's ears listened out for any voices, but there were none whatsoever; the bus was silent apart from the faint sound of the engine roaring away. The tires racing against a wet road, and the quiet hammering of the rain against the cheap, yet sturdy plastic windows.

A strike of panic hit him as he looked around the vehicle, discovering that everyone was unconscious – or possibly sound asleep. It was also night – suspicious, since school was only a short way to go from home. They were driving somewhere very unfamiliar to him, possibly ages away from their small suburban neighbourhood.

There was a blurring sight of evergreen trees rushing by as the bus picked up speed, it certainly didn't fail to scare him, yet likewise he was somewhat curious as to why they were so far away from Denver. By the looks of it, they were probably out of state too.

Within a heartbeat he felt terror consume him all the more, and frantically he began searching for the bodies of his friends.

_What was going on? _

_Had they been kidnapped? Drugged? Where were they going? _

At an attempt to stand, he stumbled, due to the lack of feeling in his legs; he fell onto his front with a clatter and cursed himself for creating so much noise. His eyes darted about the scene on deep and watchful alert, and after a short while, he felt it was safe to pursue.

Dean nodded to himself upon deciding on a plan (or something along the lines of one), and just as he was ready to drag himself back onto his seat, he heard a brief mumble from beside him. With a startled jump, he turned towards the source of the sound and found Freddy Scott lying in an awkward position on the floor close by.

For the first time today, his heart struck with hope and familiarity. A small attempt for a smile grew on his delicate lips.

"Freddy!" He staged whispered, shaking his shoulder forcefully - but the drummer barely even stirred. He remained dead to the world. Dean surrendered with an irritated moan and turned to Valerie who was occupying the seat above Freddy – the guy must have fallen off when he fell comatose.

He untwined Freddy and her fingers so that he could take a hold of the girl he barely knew much easier, "Valerie! Wake up!" He pleaded in a loud undertone. But she too, likewise to Freddy, remained motionless in her position. After a few more moments of desperate attempts to wake up his classmates, he capitulated into hopelessness on the dirty bus floor – not caring the slightest for the filth around him, but concentrating on an escape.

A flash of memory attacked at his brain and closing his eyes, everything came vividly back to him.

"_Wake up!" Freddy shouted, his voice hysterical and worried. His tone, didn't fail to cause more panic for the rest of the few remaining survivors to the leaking gassed drug, they became more restless by the second before falling out cold, and much like their own friends had done so before them. _

_Dean turned around with great haste, watching as his fellow classmates began to grow dreary, before diminishing into something lifeless. His heartbeat pulsed loudly in his ears. His sweaty hands grasped onto the bar of the seat in front of him, he tried to hold tight._

"_Valerie! Don't fall to it!" Freddy's voice emerged again amongst the chaos. _

_Dean snapped his head in the direction of the most noise, and with a sharp eye, located him a few seats ahead of his own. He coughed fumingly as he attempted to stand and call out to his friend. Without any warning, his eyelids started to grow as heavy as a ton, pulling him into temptation of sleeping - and with extreme perseverance he tried to fight it. He surged forward, swaying in dizziness. Before he could react, the last he saw was Valerie falling limp into Freddy's arms and with that, the world went cold as he too fell into the depths of black. _

_Forgetting everything and everyone that was supposed to matter. His world was darkness and no more. _

He flinched again in the piercing pain of his brain recovering. He remembered now. But the questions he had earlier still remained with him. What was happening?

"Guys wake up!" He raised his voice in horror; he shook their bodies another time until he thought he was almost sure they were dead. But of course, they weren't, how could they be? Why would they be?

He let out a stifled cry as he brushed a rough hand through his hair, falling back again onto the cold floor of the bus with a faint _thump, _in slight annoyance to his repetition. Feeling that bit more frustrated with each passing moment.

Dean looked up with a great loss of emotion and something caught his eye.

A fair distance away for his numb legs, he saw Anneliese. Lifeless, she lay with her back on the window behind her, and her head lolling with the diminutive rhythm of the bus, as her long dark hair curtained her face from him – but she was still recognizable.

Well, she was to him.

He hoped that she could be of assistance at this time; after all, she had always been one to rely on during hard times. Despite their differences, they had got along pretty well.

With increasing nervousness, he made his way towards the seat opposite Valerie and Freddy's, slowly yet surely the blood had begun to pump in his legs all over again: he was gradually recuperating. He hauled himself onto the economically cloth covered seat, and cradled Anneliese in his tired arms - this was his last hope. From her arrangement, he grabbed her arm and pulled her up so that their faces were merely inches apart; he sucked in an anxious gasp.

"Anne, please wake up…" He began softly, "Can you hear me? Wake up."

She moved a small amount and turned her head towards him instinctively. Dean almost smiled in triumph, but he was too tired to even try. His grasp tightened around her and she stirred even more slightly. He was on the verge of accomplishing something. With almost some reluctance, Dean moved his fingers through her hair, so that he could remove the hair from her face. He did so and studied her expression. Her eyelids began to lift ever so slightly – almost nothing, but it was still something.

"Anneliese!" He stage whispered.

Suddenly, his heart stopped beating as a daunting figure appeared in front of him from out of the blue. A young girl in a gas mask – unaffected by the drugs.

Dean's breathing quickened as he recognized the girl to be wearing that of the same school uniform. Apart from the mask she appeared to be exceedingly normal, at around the same age as he was. His eyebrow cocked up in inquisitiveness.

Her hair was a light brown and long, reaching down to just above waist length, and lights from outside played shadows onto her pale white features. Her uniform was neat, tucked in all the right places; it was clean and uncreased. She was very familiar somehow, with much likeness as that to a strange girl in his class.

The one who was seated right at the back. Sophie Young (Girl 20).

She had always seemed the type to be nice; she was quiet most of the time. Always doing what she was told and not speaking unless perfectly necessary – she had at all times, helped people when they needed help the most. But what was she doing now?

His eyes darted from the girl to Anneliese; and he wasn't sure what do to. He wasn't sure whom to trust. For a moment Sophie just stood there, staring from the distance of the aisle and not doing anything at all. However, she then took a look at the driver, exchanging a brief look with the man and enthusiastic nod, before hurriedly walking over towards Dean.

Her pace was slow at first, but then it quickened eagerly. A small psychotic smile appeared onto her innocent looking face.

Dean raised his voice feeling fear strike him once more, but stronger this time, "Anneliese! Wake up!" He yelled, as he shook her in terror. And after no reaction whatsoever, he put her back down on the seat as carefully and as quickly as he could.

Ignoring the pain in his body, he got up, backing away from Sophie – tripping once or twice on scattered personal belongings.

She approached with great speed, running down the aisle towards him, her heavy footsteps causing a racket when they hit the floor. She revealed to him a thick, small wooden bat in her right hand, as she lifted in the air to strike. Dean gasped in surprise and edged away from her rapidly, dodging her first clout. She was swift, but inaccurate – only an amateur.

He lifted his hands in mock surrender and protection, what the hell was she trying to do?

"Hey Sophie! Stop that, what's going on?" He exclaimed, taking the risk to step slightly closer.

The creepy smile reappeared on her face and she laughed, cute and high pitched, all the more evoking the sense that she was completely delusional. She lifted her weapon to strike once again, hoping not to miss this time around. Sophie flailed her weapon around wildly, reaching out to smack her unharmed opponent right in the jaw.

"Sophie!" Dean yelled, catching her attack with his hands and stopping the bat from colliding harshly with his face. He flinched as an image of a dislocated jaw appeared in his mind. He had to protect himself somehow.

Sophie continued to struggle away from him, prying her bat free and screaming childishly – as if she was fighting over a play toy. She scratched Dean in the arm for advantage, her nails digging into his toned biceps and laughing as blood began to stain his crisp, white school polo.

Dean staggered back in surprise, his muscle stung immensely. He squared his broad shoulders as he pressed a hand onto his wound. Now this was crazy! He didn't want to, but he being forced to fight back. He didn't think she had it in her, and this large gash didn't fail to shock him further.

Who knew underneath all that sweet personality laid a psychotic bloodthirsty freak?

She had to be stopped.

Another high-pitched wail escaped her mouth, as Sophie shot out and tried to pounce onto him. It was so fast, Dean barely had time to react or dodge the attack – he was thrown back as she climbed onto him, and punched him in the gut several times.

Dean groaned in pain with another blow, "Bitch!" he yelled panting. He could hardly sit up due to the pain; he spat out a mouthful of blood onto the floor beside him, feeling his muscles clench up.

She failed to respond to his insult and lifted the bat to strike full heartedly. But Dean knew what to do this time; he pulled her hair as hard as he could, thrusting the gas mask of her face forcefully before he threw the lightweight girl off him, feeling satisfactory when she collided with the floor and sprained her wrist from the awkward fall. She whimpered for a moment, she remained sprawled on the ground, but was quick to regain herself.

Her eyes held delight and ferventness.

She jumped up, and because her strong hand was now of no use, she picked up the weapon with her left. A smirk played onto her face, making her look menacing and ready for more action. She licked her lips as if she was geared up for a meal and began limping back to him. Now that the mask was gone, surely she would feel some of the effects too.

Her skin was flawless, apart from a small blood leaking scratch on her lower jaw - thank Dean for that one. It was well deserved. Sophie's hair was now wild and her attire was a mess. Currently, she actually looked more like the part of the murderer. Foolish and unorganised.

This was like a horror movie gone completely into his reality.

Dean lugged himself up, with the help of a near seat and readied himself for the fight. He was beginning to feel drowsy and he noticed that Sophie was too. All that he had to do now was stall her until she drugs affected her system.

Sophie clutched the bat in her left hand and attempted to jab it into Dean's neck, but he caught her slow assault midway and held onto the weapon tight so that she couldn't use it against him anymore. He kicked her in the stomach and she lurched backwards away from him, feeling it bruise where his knee contacted with her navel once again.

He threw the weapon far away, so it would be of no use to anyone against him.

Sophie was getting lethargic.

With the last shots of strength in her structure, she ran towards him clawing the air, screaming hysterically - only to have Dean dodge her lame attack, he stepped out of her range quickly so that he was sure she couldn't get him again. She fell face first into the floor and almost snapped her neck.

She began to shake in fatigue, and she let out low hurtful moan.

"Take this you son of a bitch!" Dean murmured to himself hatefully.

Sophie sat up and turned towards him just in time to feel Dean's hard fist collide with her upper cheek, knocking her out straight away. She fell back onto the ground with a slow slip and it was finally over. A trail of blood began to slither out of the corner of her mouth, and with that Dean sank into a chair that was closest. He had never felt so tired yet fully accomplished.

He sighed and rested his head back on the back of the seat. All his movements were slow, using minimum energy. In contentment, he closed his eyes; he was so exhausted. For a small person, she was strong fighter - it was enough to tired anybody out.

"I knew I shouldn't have sent a stupid child to do an adults job." A familiar woman's voice emerged from ahead of Dean. Startled, his eyes blast open and they met with two cold hazel ones.

"Wha-" Suddenly, a hard wooden object smacked into his face and threw him onto the floor. He coughed out splatters of blood, staining the floor with small red puddles. Before he could move out of the way for the second blow, it hit him on the back of his head and sent him into a trail to unconsciousness.

As his body fell limp, he felt a fairly heavy person step onto his back, and both betrayal and pain stung his wounds. He had been hit with the very weapon he had worked hard to get away from that crazy bitch and for what? It had come back to him in the end. He had fallen right onto Sophie and began to struggle away from her comatose body. He was too weak.

His eyes closed into another dark slumber and the last he smelt was the dust that lingered under the seat of the school bus and faint stench of blood.

There was a soft surge as the vehicle hit the breaks and it parked clumsily in a hurry, its aging engine squeaked in unfathomable protest. The rust mechanics of the school bus groaned into a empty halt and all there was, was the sound of the heavy rain again.

Dean felt rough hands tie sharp ropes around his arms and drag him upwards. He was now fully cataleptic.

* * *

_A/N :_ Okay, one thing, I know this is awesomely short but theres a good reason for it. And that is because this scene was totally just a build up for the trip to DOOM! Yeah yeah, a filler. Haha.. and I know, the scene was entirely for Dean, but hey its shows that theres a sense of betrayal and desperation already... If you understand what I'm trying to say or not, then oh well.

So anyway, please please review or I will fail to continue.. and by the way, Anne might kill me. So yes. I will make up for this short chapter by writing a longer and much better next chapter. Promise promise. Once again with feeling, I'm sorry, it took so long to update, but mostly I try to upload a new chapter each week. So I'll try to stick to that. Well, enjoy and tell me what you think. Please review.

SlasherFanatic26, Galantria, LoserLove, Mairi thanks so much for your reviews... I will work on what you said. Uhuh. Sorry, I'm feeling really pissed, my brothers fcking computer just erased all of 600 songs on my iPod. CRY Thats all for now. I really must update the next chapter soon. BYEE

-Fallen11angel


	5. An Introduction

**Battle Royale – A Game To Remember**

_Chapter Three_

* * *

_The rain poured down harder and faster from the darkened grey sky, from a far off distance there was a rumble of thunder. It tumbled down the plastic rooftop of a rundown shed, in the midst of an overgrown forest area, covered with vines and willow trees. Anneliese stumbled inside. Within a few moments the night drew in, and she was forced to hide in the darkest corner of the last shelter she could find, without any laying corpses of people she had known. She had been searching for a place to go for a few hours now – her feet were tired and her body was aching. She almost collapsed under her own weight. _

_It finally sunk in. She was alone._

_Her friends were all dead. She recalled their names and faces one by one, barely a whimper came from her lips._

_Anneliese hugged herself tightly as she slid down the dirty wall, trailing marks of dry blood and water. Her clammy hands grasped onto her wet clothing, clinging onto her damp skin and eventually the tears began to flow. With only the sound of her loud and hysterical sobbing, suddenly there was a echo of quick and heavy footsteps from in front of her. Frightened to the death, she desperately wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, almost clawing them and leaving clean streaks on her soiled face. Before long her vision became clear again. But she wished that it didn't; as her heart pained suddenly and she almost stifled. _

_Anneliese gasped and backed up further against the wall, in the hopes of getting away from this place, but she was trapped – her mistake for hiding in a corner. The small handgun was hastily reloaded with a faint "click" and Dean took a deathly step forwards, appearing from the depths of the shadows. He had been carelessly following her these hours, awaiting a chance to end this match and be proclaimed winner. He lifted the gun and pinned it to her neck with great strength, forcing her to stand up and to choke to the slightest degree. The tears welled up again as she began to gag for mercy. But it failed her._

_She shivered in fear and looked desperate. Nothing could save her now._

_Dean gulped, his hand shaking tremendously as he held it dangerously to her skin, "It's just a game." He murmured, his eyes flashing anger and his grip on the small weapon narrowing. He was ready, ruthless – prepared to murder a friend. _

_Before Anneliese could say her final words, there was a loud gunshot and followed by a blast of excruciating pain in her upper throat – a few seconds later, blood began to flow wildly out of her wound, spraying Dean all over and causing him to back away swiftly. It stained the floor crimson and it mixed with the mud. Dean staggered back to get away and ended up knocking over several containers of stale water and petrol, but it still couldn't get the blood away._

_He dropped the gun as her body slid slowly back to the floor, and it was only then that his tears let out. Anneliese panted for life and air but soon, she knew there was no hope. By now she had been bathed in the warmth of her blood, slithering down her exterior and staining her skin. _

_Her eyes shot wide one last time, before her world went into one black hole. Her memories, her life – was gone. With a final grasp for survival, death consumed her._

_Dean did this. Murder by a friend._

* * *

Anneliese awoke with an alerting startle, and her eyes darted around the room with increasing haste – she soon discovered that this was not home, and that this wasn't the sheets of her bed, but was some sort of derelict classroom which she could hardly recognize. All of her classmates were lying in random places in the room; some were slumped in chairs and some were on the floor – all were unconscious. Dead to the world. Her heart picked up a minuscule speed.

A small growl escaped her lips as a headache attacked her temple. She was covered in sweat, as of the nightmare and she felt like crying, but the tears failed to come. From time to time, short images of the nightmare returned to her, she shook her head forcedly to rid them – but to no avail. She had already cried too many tears, there were none left to cry.

A cold object encircled her neck and almost straight away, her hand went up to it. She felt like choking, and it was difficult to breathe; she could scarcely place her fingers in between the metal and her neck. She fiddled with its smooth exterior in the hopes of removing it, however, she had no strength to do so.

Soon, Anneliese decided to examine the room further, trying to lift herself up from her uncomfortable position, but established that she was lying across the one person she was afraid of most at this moment; he stirred upon her thinking of him.

Dean. The person who she had just seen, murder her heartlessly in a delusion.

She wasn't sure whether to trust it, and get herself away from him; or just stay in this position. After all, it couldn't be true at all, could it? Gone a while of remaining there, her body began to ache more, quivering muscles compelled her to remove herself from this arrangement and she obliged. Anneliese elevated her head and sat up painfully, her blood began to flow freely again and in next to no time, she felt her body recovering. The collar gave her warm skin some refreshingly cool leverage.

Just as she moved, Dean woke up, rolling onto his side, and his hand reaching for his skull, moaning somewhat of being hit in the head. He mumbled on for a moment and she ignored him. Anneliese's eyes widened, as he too sat up, sooner than she had thought, and he turned to her, studying her and thankful for her safety. She scooted and removed her gaze from him, hoping that he wouldn't acknowledge her presence any further. In a little while he found a collar around his own neck too; he tugged at it for a moment but shortly gave up, due to his short attention span for unimportant things.

Slowly, her classmates began to wake up too. After long recoveries, they moved onto look around the room in puzzlement and embarked on asking questions. Everyone had a collar too, glimmering silver in the dim of the room, and everyone tried different ways to take them off, but only failing after a while. There was a buzz of noise as people began screaming, whispering and all else; all about their whereabouts, their reasons and presently there were more questions. Others found friends and broke into hugs, some into tears. There was still no clue of what was happening.

"Hey, Anneliese?" She heard from beside her, a hand resting on her shoulder, and his breath tickling her upper throat. She stiffened into a rigid stance, and instantly, she touched her neck - remembering where she had been shot. Reluctantly she faced him, hiding her newfound fear, "Are you okay?" He asked, wiping a hand over her forehead and removing some of her sweat. He smiled sweetly and encouragingly.

She nodded, forcing a smile too – though it was weak. Anneliese opened her mouth to say something, but then shut it again when there was nothing to say. She sighed and traced the hem of her skirt, pulling it down to its fullest length. Dean searched the room for familiar faces – he was just glad everyone was alright, even if there was this situation at hand.

The noise increased around them, until it had reached the peak and they sounded like a swarm of eventful flies.

"BANG!" The large entrance of metal locked doors thrust open, and a handful of soldiers marched in carrying machine guns and machetes – all fully armed and protected. They eyed the students viciously and eagerly, as if ready to attack at any moment; silence fell over the class as fear and enquiry took hold. Quickly, the soldiers surrounded the room, and blocked all escape. Silence fell, and now there was nothing but the sound of breathing, and the faint noise of shuffling. Before long, it was overpowered by the profound footsteps of army boots colliding with the plastic covered ground of the corridor outside.

The pupils nervously awaited the door to open, and Dean took hold of Anneliese's arm tightly, gesturing security. She didn't even realize so, as the doors swung open fiercely a second time and another handful of bulky soldiers filtered in, some pushing large trolleys of green, ragged rucksacks, others hauling a television to the front of the room, and the rest filing in with the line of armed forces.

Abruptly, the defence made way for another person; she marched inside and stood at the front, smiling familiarly to the class as she received a response of gasps and cries. They cast her questioning looks and some looked like they were going to make an attempt to speak – but silence still consumed them.

There she was, their wicked headmistress, Mrs. Johnson standing in front of them, almost no different to the way she was with them the day before. She grinned eerily, revealing to them a set of pearl white teeth, and she brushed a calm hand through her short and neat brown hair.

The pieces began to fit gradually. This was why she wanted to dismiss them to quickly and so happily too. She was the reason they were here. Anneliese forced herself to look her in the eye, make it out that she wasn't afraid, inside she felt very different.

Instead of wearing a thick plaid skirt, an old military shirt, and some unsuited pencil high heels; Mrs. Johnson now wore the same thing, except with military boots and pants, as a substitute to the other tacky clothing – now she actually looked the part. They remembered that she had previously mentioned that she had been expelled from the navy long ago.

They had never believed her.

"Welcome class! Good Morning, and thank you for being here especially sharp!" She yelled excitedly, throwing her arms up in mock victory, "Finally, you are here!" She cackled and held onto her stomach as if the laughter was too much. The class eyed her with both fear and disgust. She wiped a fake tear from her eye.

"What the fuck is going on?" Patrick yelled from the silence, attempting to get up and set himself upon their teacher, but his best (and equally violent) friend, Leon Kennedy surprisingly held him back. Patrick retreated into his seat again with great disinclination, staring icily at the room. Fit to kill. Mrs. Johnson, glared at him as she stopped laughing, she did however placed her hands behind her back in her usual manner.

The group turned back around to the woman at the front as she cleared her throat loudly, "That is an excellent question, Mr. Newport," She took out a shiny, brand new handgun from her back pocket and pointed it at him coldly, "As I have told you before, I have found you something much better to do for your punishments."

She loaded the gun and pointed it back at Patrick, the pupils gasped and moved away from her – scared and sceptical. Patrick merely, eyed the weapon with a smirk on his face – he of all people, was not afraid of death or brutality, he welcomed it. He got up again, steadying himself with both arms as he placed them on the table in front of him.

Their headmistress sighed and dropped her arm, taking the gun away from the path of destruction, "I suppose I can't kill you," She paused and smiled, "You're my favourite for the win!" She almost laughed again, but seemed to hold it back. Patrick's smirk disappeared as he sat back down, his lust for blood was far too much, even if it was his own.

The teenagers exchanged confused glances and they were still stuck in the dark: unknowing and naïve.

She sat on the table behind her gracefully, crossing her legs and placing the gun down beside her, "Okay, to cut the crap short, I'm going to make you kill each other until only one of you is left alive," She exhaled noisily before continuing, as if it was such a burden for her, "And basically, that one remaining will be let go."

She laughed again but quietly this time, "Simple as."

The room burst into another eruption of noise, and disruption. Everyone retorted and had something to say. This annoyed the waiting woman, and she geared up, stepping forward.

"You never learn!" She screamed, her face turning a deep shade of pink, "It's this fucking behaviour that got you into this mess!"

She waved an arrogant hand at one of the nearby soldiers and immediately, he came forward and turned on the television, shoving a video in as he did so. Afterwards, he returned to his place as if nothing happened – all the soldiers stayed emotionless.

Mrs. Johnson smiled and sat down behind the desk in the chair. She clasped her hands and toyed with her thumbs.

The screen filled with a noisy static before a little girl appeared on set, beaming and jumping in exhilaration. She looked around 10 years old or perhaps younger, and she was standing in a forest with some children her age, playing around from behind her. They were in a game of "Tag" or something as such. She wore girly military attire, including a short, pink, combat skirt and her hair in a long ponytail. She had a sash around her waist with "BR!" in bold lettering, and even had streaks of army paint on her pale face.

She swung her straight hair behind her shoulder as she jumped again and waved, "Hello boys and girlies! My name is Abigail and I'm your new best friend!" She giggled as the children behind her cheered, soon after they returned to their game.

"Now, I've got a special message for you!" Abigail screeched, grabbing her sash tightly with both of her small hands, "You are the special children that have been chosen for the BATTLE ROYALE game this year!"

The other children applauded again in unison, screaming and leaping around, "Yay!" They screamed, "Awesome!"

Abigail stepped up to the camera, twirling a strand of hair, and she almost pressed her face onto the screen, "Battle Royale is a very easy-peasy game to play, and because you kiddies have been-"

"Naughty!" The children screamed, waving their fingers and pouting their lips.

"Yeah naughty!" Abigail laughed ridiculously, "Which is why the big government people want you to play! So they put you on an island where nobodies can find you and all you have to do to be set free… is KILL EVERYONE!" She got so thrilled, that all the kids joined her in the front, and they all starting laughing and jumping hysterically, like it was some sort of happy party.

Mrs. Johnson coughed and the students took this as a time to trade looks again. This was getting creepier by the second. They began to get uncomfortable, pulling at collars and shifting in seats.

Once the kids in the video had stopped skipping around, Abigail bounced back to the front of the crowd, her features slightly huffed and pink, "Now, _you_ have to play! And if you try to escape… BANG!" She screamed.

"You die!" The other children responded. Abigail pointed her finger at the similar collar on her; she beamed afterwards like it was a good thing to have.

"There will be nowhere for you to go, and the only people here are you!" She pointed a finger again, except this time towards the students watching, and laughed before continuing, "Your teacher and the nice soldier people."

The children giggled and huddled close together, whispering things in each other's ears. Its was inaudible, hence sounding like a hushed wind.

"But don't worry! All of you will have randomly assigned weapons, so that you can have more fun!"

Static began to overtake the display slowly and steadily. Her face was slowly disappearing into the darkening screen.

"Once you leave this room, the competition starts!" She yelled throwing her arms upwards, "Kill everybody until there is one winner! Yay! And then the winner can go home!" More cheering and applaud.

"But there are _new rules_, because you people have been more bad. So you people get to play the new game!" Abigail took out a revolver, from the front pocket of her short, swaying skirt, "Lucky you!"

"Lucky lucky lucky!" They chimed.

"Uhuh, that's right! Remember that we will all be friends forever!" She screamed joyously, "Have fun!" Abigail winked and threw the audience a peace sign, before she lifted the gun and shot the nearest girl beside her. She and the other kids giggled as the child sprayed blood upon the screen. Abigail waved before the video was hastily thrown and cut.

The soldier came back and shut the television, pulling it out off the room as the class fell into another deafening silence. There was nothing to say – only shock and horror. Everyone became more perturbed and caught glances at one another - questions running through their minds.

"That's sick!" Madison Holmes (Girl 7) screamed, putting a hand over her mouth as if she was about to throw up. Everyone's eyes turned to her, because frankly, Madison was one of the students who actually never spoke and always kept to themselves, with no friends and no intention of gaining any – but now she was speaking out when no one else dared to.

Madison looked as if she was about to make an attempt to stand, but her knees buckles and she remained where she was. Anneliese cast her a sympathetic look as if to stop talking – there was something not right about all of this.

"Miss Holmes, this is not sick, it's merely just life!" Mrs. Johnson's eyes flashed evil and she turned away quickly, hiding her face in the shadows, "The rules are simple: if you ever try to escape, if you enter a danger zone or if nobody kills within twenty-four hours, then you'll end up like Madison here."

All gazes turned to the girl they hardly knew again, and nothing happened. Silence devoured them once more. Madison broke into a mixture of anxiety and sweat as she crawled forwards.

"What do you mean like-" She began to say, but was interrupted by a high pitched, ringing and beeping sound erupting from her collar. Madison stumbled forward again when she heard this, and looked around for help desperately – but nobody knew what to do.

Mrs. Johnson turned back around to them again, and laughed, "This class, is what will happen if you disobey, if you talk. Finally, you might learn."

Madison grabbed onto Anneliese's collar and pleaded for help, "What's going to happen to me Anneliese!" She yelled, getting physically aggressive, and pulling her towards herself.

Anneliese froze, as her eyes were drawn to the other girls collar, a red light shining in contrast to its dull colour. It was getting louder by the second.

"Hey! Back off Madison!" Dean yelled, pushing Madison backwards gently and taking Anneliese away from the violence.

Madison slid onto the floor with a soft "thud" and immediately, everyone near to her withdrew with vast pace. Anneliese remained motionless as Dean put his arms around her protectively, and her eyes widened with fear. No one attempted to help, but instead either looked at her with regret, or didn't even look her in the eye at all.

Before Madison could plea for help one final time, her collar exploded silently and slit her throat deep - like a sharp and swift dagger. She died instantly and fell face-first into the floor below, the blood quickly flooding out of the large opening in her neck. The floor around her was covered and the teenagers sitting nearest lingered in both astonishment and ever-expanding apprehension.

She did not just die, just like that. Even if nobody knew her, it hurt to loose someone you were acquainted with.

There was an absence of words and a deadly stillness, Hannah Timothy (Girl 16) burst into a wave of muffled cries and tears. The others near to her, tried to comfort her in the ways that they could – Hannah was very emotional, and even so, didn't like when harm was done onto others.

Fay Takeo (Boy 17) slid a slow hand across his cheek, to wipe off the small amount of blood on his perfect complexion, and since he was seated closest to the victim; he had been effortlessly drenched with the spray of her blood. His clothes, his skin and his hair lay dripping with the red liquid, stained with a murder that was not even his own. Fay's blonde hair was now slightly tinted red, and he quivered as he slid backwards across the floor, away from the still corpse.

Nobody could process what had just happened before them, but waited, and did nothing so that wouldn't end up like Madison – they now understood that this was no joke.

There it was, a bleeding carcass centred by a mass of school children, there was something more than eerie about it.

Mrs. Johnson broke the silence by walking over to the trolley of duffels and rucksacks. She picked one up from the top of the pile before speaking, calmly and loudly, "There you go! Now you've seen, " She shrugged, "Anyway, these are your bags. They contain food and water enough for 72 hours, which the duration of this game. If nobody wins within that time, then all the remaining survivors die. Just like your classmate here."

No one answered or spoke, so she decided to carry on.

"It also contains a map, a watch and a weapon. Firstly, of course the map will help you to find your way around so you don't wander into the danger zones. If you do, then again, you die. Secondly, the watch is just your way of knowing the time – I assume you can all tell the time?" She asked and everyone nodded accordingly, "And finally, the most important. The Weapon. You will use this to kill each other, but unfortunately they are given at random, and so only few of you will receive efficient weapons to use. Sorry." She beamed, and in her hands the duffel still remained.

"Every six hours I will post an announcement through speakers that are around the island, I will tell you the danger zones then and also list the people who have died." The class still maintained their stationary positions, "Fun."

"So that's all I think." Mrs. Johnson said, looking up in the air as if she was thinking, "Oh yes. One more thing before we begin. You are not allowed within one metre of one another, and if you cross this boundary then you will have one minute to kill the other person. If no one dies by the time one minute is over, then you both die. If one of the two or until one is left alive, they will be spared by the collar for the time being. Thus, to be entirely safe, stay away from each other or just kill quickly. They complete lesson is to be independent – how can you kill with a partner?"

Everyone looked around, scared to come into contact with one another, some moved away just to be sure.

"I suppose that's all to be said," She muttered, "Now we can begin."

Mrs. Johnson took a few steps forward and called, "Dean Acre!" Holding out an arm to hand him the duffel bag. He eyed it from where he was seated and gave Anneliese a questioning look, unsure of whether to take it from the teacher or not, before long he smirked and shrugged in his typical approach. Unhurriedly, he removed his arms from around Anneliese and stood up, giving her shoulder a small squeeze.

Dean took the duffel from Mrs. Johnson and hugged it to himself. He made his way towards the door, knowing what was coming to him. He stepped over Madison's crimson covered body, as it was the only way to get past and stood before the doorway.

The class gaped at Dean, and then at the soldiers as they moved apart before opening the door beside them. Dean looked out of it, reluctant of leaving and unsure of what to do.

Mrs. Johnson spoke up again, glaring at him emotionlessly, "Good luck! Once you leave this room, your danger begins."

Dean turned back around one last time, looking at Anneliese and the rest of these people he knew. He nodded half-heartedly and disappeared out of the door, into the world outside. The class stared at the empty doorway, a symbol of disaster – yet there was no escape.

"Anneliese Ackles." Mrs. Johnson called again, her voice echoing in the area and shocking Anneliese out of her thoughts. She, in response, stood up and received a large rucksack from the trolley, just as Dean had done before her. She gave the headmistress a disappointed look, before inhaling deeply and eventually without looking back, she ran out of the room. Her footsteps echoing in the corridor and fading as Mrs. Johnson spoke over the noise.

Calmly, the rest of the bags were handed out in the same fashion. Names were called, and bags were received in silence, tears or even just angry glares – she was even spat on by Patrick Newport. Either way, they were scared inside, perhaps not all of them, but a great majority were, despite the lack of it shown on the surface.

The tension built all the way until the last pair, Thomas Wood (Boy 20) and Sophie Young (Girl 20), who had been extremely scared of exiting the room. But it was done and everyone was now gone, outside fighting for survival. The game was underway.

The classroom was now, like the many other classrooms in America – abandoned, vacant and filled only with the body of a dead teenager. By this time, Mrs. Johnson had gone to the control room, beside the class and the soldiers had advanced to guard the surroundings outside.

This was going to be one hell of a ride.

* * *

Time

_0 hours played_

_72 hours left_

Dead

Male: _None_

Female: _Madison Holmes (Girl 7)_

Remaining

39 students

* * *

_A/N :_ So there, thats a new chapter. Maybe not so good to you, but it took me quite some time to write. Hey guys, I tried, I really did. Basically, it was the game briefing and such - yeah, MATTWEEKS, it was Mrs. Johnson. Just in case you guys want to know - she actually is my headteacher. Creepy. So I put her in this story, I thought she might do a good job of being a villain. Also, that dream in the beginning, yeah yeah - it just shows betrayal. I don't really want that to actually happen though, because then Anne would be bragging to me about how I gave her premonition. Haha!

Heee. Anyway, now that all these beginning chapters are done, I can write about more killing now! I'm so weird. Well, I'm not sure if you guys understand that new rule I threw in there, or whether you like it. So tell me please. Review it please please. Tell me how you think this is going, if you can.

Thanks to all you put this story on Alert or on your Favorites. And your reviews, SlasherFanatic26, Galantria, MATTWEEKS, and JOYCiiE-X, your are my constant joys! Thanks again guys - and to all you others, review please. I would really appreciate it.

-Fallen11angel


	6. Brothers And Bubblegum?

**Battle Royale – A Game To Remember**

_Chapter Four_

* * *

Joyce placed a clammy hand onto the thick rusting metal door in front of her, and gave it a sure shove with her shoulder. After a tight creak and another hefty budge, it fell open to reveal the surroundings; Joyce stumbled forward before jumping right back into the shadow of the door, afraid to be seen by any prying eyes. Outside, the scene was dark and densely covered in overgrown plants, looking uncared for and thriving for nourishment. For a moment she stood in the doorway, hovering between the security of the abandoned school and the bloodthirsty game that lay in wake. No one would play, would they?

They couldn't.

Hugging her duffel to her chest, and quivering slightly with the cold of the night, her eyes searched the space in front of her for any familiar objects or faces. It was empty, and suddenly the chilled air blew at the sandy ground. Slowly, the blue moonlight crawled to her legs, giving her hiding position away and causing her to heave an intake of breath. There was nowhere to go, and there was nothing to do. She wasn't even sure if all this was real.

Joyce shuffled again; her white sneakers leaving their unique sole marks on the dry ground and she strode forward into the empty field by the school - its long and once healthy grass, now yellow and dying. The school looked different from the outside, compared to the interior, it looked almost decent out here – a perfectly respectable school, except for various broken windows and stained brick walls. It was a lot like their school. The wind caught her again, from this height there was less heat and less oxygen – she felt it unsafe to breathe, but she did anyway.

Drawing to the edge, she found the school to be on the pinnacle of a hill, surrounded by solid trees and green forestry: from here the entire island could be seen and there was even the distant hemline of the coast. She wondered how everybody was, and from her distance she saw a flash of light rushing through some trees to her east, its brightness escaping past the thick leaves and into her view. A rush of assurance hit her as she felt that she was not alone, but before long fear struck her again. It was still a dangerous situation.

"Joyce!" A hushed voice called from remoteness, shocking the girl and causing her jump. She lost her step and almost tumbled down the steep hill, but was abrupt to regain, due to practiced reflexes. Joyce attempted to get away as quick as possible, but a swift hand shot out from behind and grabbed her arm, pulling her back so that she collided into a firm chest.

She struggled and pulled back, feeling the fear of death at hand, but was surprised to feel a familiar embrace and the sweet smell of faded C.K. perfume in her nostrils. Instantly she eased and looked up, sighing when she met with Danny's gentle face, and she fell limp onto him, as if so glad that he was here, because she was. His warmth and his presence was enough to love him more – he was always there for her. Now was the right time to arrive.

"Oh my God, Dan! You scared the life out of me." She said, burying her face in his shirt, grabbing a handful of it. Feeling relieved and safe, he smiled before replying.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I was waiting for you to come out, and when I saw you..." He replied quietly, but was stopped when there was a recognizable high-pitched ringing erupting from both their collars. He froze and took a step back, his hands still lingering on Joyce's elbows. Her eyes darted around the scene, and they grew wide when she saw the red light on Dan's collar, giving his chin a faint glow.

"Move Dan!" Joyce screamed in her instant panic, pushing him backwards hard and forcing herself away too. She had just seen Madison die with front row tickets, she was not about to see Dan die too – they could survive this, she knew they could. Before she could react, Joyce felt herself missing the ground and being hauled downwards by gravity.

Danny staggered back, just as the information took in and fell over a protruding rock. He made contact with the ground violently, creating dust clouds and soon he coughed fiercely. The ringing stopped, but Joyce had freaked out. She lost her step and had slipped down the hill, with one leg bent at an awkward position. An image of bloodstained sand flooded his mind; he hurried to the edge of the hill and peered over anxiously. His fingers gripping into the dirty earth as his head edged into the lack of land, and his eyes rummaged the dark scene, somehow adjusting rapidly to the evening.

"Joyce!" He screamed into the dark of night, "Joyce!"

He was met by a deathly silence and he felt his eyes prickle with that of tears. Danny staggered to get up, and grabbing his rucksack again, salty tears flowing down his face and cleaning the dust. He skidded and ran down the side of hill in the greatest hopes of finding Joyce, and with some luck on his side, seeing her alive.

* * *

Zach Parker (Boy 12) panted loudly, feeling his ribs rise and fall violently along with his sync breathing. A few sharp branches here and there persisted in clawing at his uniform and his lightly tanned face. He sucked in a breath along with the pain, making sure that he made no sound to give away his position. He continued to run for his life, not stopping though he felt like he was about to collapse, and from the corner of his eye, he saw his torch faltering. It flickered a few more times before it shut off completely.

Battery depleted.

"Shit." He cursed under his breath, his legs slowing to a halt as he smacked the metal torch against his guitar-playing callused palm. Zach made a face at it and decided inwardly to leave the damn thing off for now at least, there was still somewhat of light from the sky and immediately his heart sank as he saw the sun quickly fading. He swore again, stuffing the large gadget into his pocket and running once again, following a seemingly well-used path in the muddy earth.

According to his compass, which he gave a short glance at while he clipped it clumsily to his front blazer pocket, said he was going east. Well, east was a good start, maybe he would reach a coast or something. Then he could figure something out there, and finally he could think about what the hell he was going to do in a crazy situation like this. He was sure he would reach somewhere convenient; after all, his luck was great next to none. With a troubled childhood and the determination to get him anywhere, he smirked and ran faster, until he was sure his body was going to snap into two.

Slowly, through the sound of a drumming heart in his ears, he heard another hum of heavy breathing. Suddenly, paranoia erupted within him and all he did was bolt away faster, like a greyhound of its owner's leash and surely enough, he heard twigs snapping behind him from a pursuit, another breathing growing louder along with his own.

In the attempt to look behind him, he smacked into a large tree bark, winding him and causing him to be trapped. Panicking, he backed up against the tree and shook off his rucksack from his shoulders, scavenging through its depths for something to defend himself with, fully aware of the breathing that edged ever closer to him. His hands shook; picking up and throwing away objects that were in his bag – _a watch, a bottle of water, a map… _

"Damn it!" He stage whispered, still shifting through his bag, with only the sense of his fingers to know what was within it. It was pitch black now, with only the dim outline of things in his surroundings, and he knew that inside he was frightened to death. He hurriedly rummaged until his palm felt something cold and sharp, cutting deep into his wrist. Zach cried out in pain and pulled out the weapon with his bleeding hand - its warm liquid slowly gushing out of his wrist, and soaking his clothes. He stifled back another painful cry, and staggered up, wiping some sweat off his cheek and leaving blood streaks there.

He looked around, feeling his lungs gasping for fresh air, and his eyes met with a familiar figure a few metres in front of him. Zach instinctively grasped his knife tighter, still not knowing the extent of its appearance and stepped back as much as he could into the tree bark - its rough exterior scratching his back.

"Parker…" He heard a creepy voice say, and a shadow swaying in the distance. He knew that voice straight away and knew that this was not a position he would want to play in. The guy was fucking unstable for God's sakes.

"Mark Smith." Zach whispered back into the darkness to him (Boy 16). He held out the knife in defence and slightly saw it glimmer through catching the last ounces of light. His eyes were slowly adjusting to the night and he saw Mark walking closer.

"Well, well. Look here, poor Zach with a little knife." Mark taunted, sifting a shaky hand through his shoulder-long brown hair, and smoothing down his dirty uniform. Zach was really tall, and also brunette, but somehow Mark was still taller, his thin figure stretching almost 10 centimetres over Zach's head. Mark pursed his large lips and it grew into a smirk.

Zach caught a foretaste of the crowbar that Mark had, held with both hands due to its weight and in the fear of a fight; Zach blew the hair out of his eyes. Hand to hand combat? From what Zach had just heard from that deranged teacher of theirs, that wasn't going to go down too well with these damn collars. He should just get it over with, and get out of this forest.

"What's your deal Mark?" Zach managed to say, after studying his weapon for a while, and he thrust his bag back onto his shoulders, all the while not removing his view off the other guy.

Mark chuckled, in a creepy way and even though Zack asked, he already knew the answer. The both stared and narrowed their dark brown eyes into slits to focus on the other, "Dear Zack, you know 'the deal' with me!" He screamed, mimicking Zach slightly and edging forwards, knowing the extent of their boundaries. He held up the crowbar and though it was heavy, he lifted it above his head.

It really was true, Zach knew all that happened but it was a long time ago. None of it was their fault, he never really knew why it went wrong and they used to be good friends too. But after that, Mark was never the same. He was now eerily mad and looked like he didn't care for himself at all, when he had used to be happy, funny and extremely optimistic. Zach still wanted things to be the same, but after a while he knew that everything had to change eventually.

"Come on man! Don't do this!" Zach yelled, daring to step forwards and drop his arm back down to his side. Mark changed no emotion and remained staring at Zach with angry eyes.

Mark cried out and leapt forwards, striking Zach with the crowbar in the upper gut. Zach fell forwards on his knees and knew that would leave a bruise, he groaned and heard the ringing of their collars, the flashing of the red light chasing away the shadows and revealing the two boys in front of each other. He rolled his eyes and stumbled up with the help of the tree.

"Damn it Parker! Fight me like a man!" Mark screamed from above him, watching him on the floor with eager eyes. Zach felt anger in his throat and it grew when Mark kicked him fiercely in the chest. He spat out a mouthful of foul tasting blood and almost puked. He never was one who passed gym class.

"Fuck you!" Zach screamed, fighting back his good conscience and grabbing onto Mark's shirt to haul himself up, then stabbing him in the right of his chest, feeling as the sharp metal rigged into muscle and bone, he pulled out the weapon when Mark pushed him away. Zach leapt back away from him and lay down in the earth, feeling the cold and dirt, he was just all right that Mark had stopped – Zach was tired. Soon the ringing stopped and the red light disappeared to leave him the darkness once again.

Was Mark dead or was he just out of range? Zach weakly propped himself up his elbows and looked for a body, he saw something slouched by the tree and Zach sickened. What did he just do?

He felt a pain in his chest and with that, he suddenly threw up, turning over on his side to get it out quickly, ridding his body of all his feelings and meals. But not even puking it all out could take away the pain of what he just did. Zach was a good guy, all he had ever done in his life was play the guitar and sing, but now nothing really was ever going to stay the same.

Ever.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and crawled, laying down again after a short while, away from the mess and the body. Zach shut his eyes tight until it hurt, hoping he would just wake up, but nothing at all happened. He was still here in this damned nightmare.

* * *

"Damn it Taylor, move away more!" Ashley screeched loudly and childishly, stomping her ballet-pumps wearing feet as if to kick the other girl, "Our collars keep lighting up and I do not want my head to be blown off like that Madison girl!" She added, and Taylor scooted over further away from her, pouting since she was the one who usually did the bossing around.

"Shut up you skank! I'm just real freaked out. I mean people are dying!" Taylor replied, twirling a strand of flawless hair around her youthful finger. She sighed and moved over another few metres or so until they were both sitting opposite each other. Taylor looked around them, and reached for her duffel, hugging to her chest for protection. The both of them had run from that creepy school once they were out and eventually, they had found this cave on the side of this hill. Well, it was more like a little dip, but they still counted it as a cave.

They figured they would stay here since nobody would hurt them – after all, they were popular and pretty. Sure. But they were frightened when they heard screaming and retching, from not too far away, which is when Taylor tried to sit closer to Ashley.

Ashley, who was calmer than ever, leant back on the rock and opened her bag to fish for anything that would keep her warm since with night, comes chill. She rolled down the sleeves of her navy blue school blazer and pulled down her skirt, but it still barely brushed her thighs. She shivered and took out a map, and a few bags of food, making disgusted faces at it.

"What?" Taylor asked, seeing her friend's face. Ashley threw the bags of food aside into the darkness of the forest near them and continued her search. Taylor gasped and crawled forward to retrieve the food and she put them into her bag. "You can't just throw that away, we might starve if we don't get killed! And if you're just going to chuck it up in your bulimic pukes, then I'll eat it." She mumbled to herself, and for once she actually sounded like one of the less popular people who were concerned for their friends.

Ashley shrugged, and rolled eyes, "It's not even called bulimic…" She pathetically retorted back. Taylor looked up to see Ashley smiling at something her bag, and then her heart skipped a beat. Had she found a weapon and was it good? Could it protect the both of them? Ashley stuck her hand into her bag and held something for a while.

"Ashley, did you find your weapon?" Taylor asked anxiously, kneeling forwards and placing her hands on the rough ground. Her cherry glossed lips parted slightly as expectantly awaited an answer.

Ashley looked up and shook her head; her smile never ceasing to leave and she took out a piece of bubble gum from her bag before jumping her seat excitedly. Taylor's heart sank while Ashley's stupid one got happier.

"Ashley? Give me your bag!" Taylor screamed, and to which Ashley obliged obediently before going back into awe with her beloved gum. Taylor caught the bag, and took a quick look inside, shifting through everything was in its content, but there were no signs of anything else as a weapon. How was a gum supposed to a weapon? "Fuck!" Taylor swore loudly, her cheeks colouring as she threw the bag away angrily. Ashley stiffened when she heard the echo of Taylor's voice and knew that when the girl was mad, there were to things to do: either stay out of her rampaging way, or suck up to her extra.

"I think I'll save this." Ashley muttered, referring to her gum and placing it in her front pocket. Taylor placed her head in her hands looking frustrated before she moved onto looking through her own duffel.

Everything was the same, _food x2 because of Ashley, water, map, and compass…_

Ashley eyed her friend apprehensively, but frowned when Taylor shook her head to indicate she had nothing good either. She put the bag beside her and pulled out her supposed "weapon" which was a blanket, and threw it over to Ashley who she had seen shivering (even though they usually dressed very similarly). Ashley nodded in appreciation and pulled it over to keep herself warm, Taylor hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them, attempting to sleep since everything that had sunk into her brain was too much to swallow. They were tired.

Ashley gave her a faint smile and thought of something to cheer her up, "Don't worry about it Taylor, I mean things will work out for us. Just look at what we have…" She began but was cut off by the "Queen Bee's" glare.

"What we have? We have a gum and a blanket! What can we do with that, huh? A sticky blanket or whatever." Taylor dropped her icy glare feeling a short period of guilt for taking out her anger. She didn't want to die, but then again who didn't. There were a lot of people out there who didn't like them and she was sure they would find her, "Unless it's a fucking poison gum or something…" She added sarcastically, turning over to go to sleep, using her bag for a pillow.

The other girl was hurt, because who of the plastic clan wouldn't be hurt if you got on Taylor's bad side. She looked briefly at her gum stick in her pocket, and hoped that it really wasn't poisonous. That was too unreal.

She shut her eyes and pulled the blanket to her chin, hugging her bag. Yeah, everyone was calling it one big nightmare.

* * *

"_Freddy, when do you think your band practice will be over tonight?" Mark asked, walking over to the two boys sitting in the music room playing their instruments, "It's been ages since me and my brother have actually hung out together!" He smiled, patting Zach on the shoulder as he put down his Fender guitar. _

"_Sorry dude, okay I promise I'll cancel band practice tonight. We can go catch some tricks at the skate park or something." Zach replied, beaming and standing up to a height much taller than Mark. He laughed as the summer rays walked through the windows and lit up the room, it was two years ago and the three boys looked so young. _

_Mark had short, spiked hair and though he played no instruments, usually hung out with the band guys; and he was naturally, lightly tanned, like Zach. He was loud, fearless and very optimistic. But unlike Zach, who had medium long, surfer hair and a tendency to stay quiet, not stick up for himself, overall he was still one of the nicest guys. _

_And Freddy, was still Freddy. Blonde, sweet and was nowhere without his drumsticks, stuck in his back pockets. He loved to laugh and was very laidback, his extra "cool" probably made up for his lack of smart skills. _

"_Well, I'll catch you later Freddy." Zach said, zipping his guitar case and swinging it onto his back, he gave a half wave, half salute before walking out to follow Mark. Freddy chuckled to himself, and thanked God that he didn't have to carry the drum kit; he stuffed the drumsticks into his pocket and got up, leaving the room shortly after them. _

_He shut the door behind him and with that, nothing would be the same between the three of them again. _

* * *

Time

_1 hours played_

_71 hours left_

Dead

Male: _None_

Female: _None_

Remaining

39 students

* * *

_A/N :_ Well, there and out. I'm sorry of the long delay, because I have a good explanation… or not. One, its exam time again, so I have lots of work to do, especially with Art and English finals… grrr, even though those are my two favorite subjects. Two, I have been obsessively watching Fruits Basket. Three, I don't know I just wanted to say three. Haa. So I squeezed this little short number chapter in for you all to read while I'm gone, working my ass off in the exam room. Sighh.

Okay, I figured I would fill you in on a character each time in my authors note and this time around is Joyce. Well, Joyce is my best buddy old pal, and she is exactly the way I write her, even the fact that she's with Dan (haha, only in dreams) but yeah she's real and she doesn't want to die. Haha, I already have my mind set on one character winning and depending on votes, I might changes my mind (votes on my profile I mean.) One exception IT WILL NOT BE ME aka. Valerie. Because wheres the fun in that?

Anyway, now I apologize for the short chapter, but it was all my fingers could type. As Shigure says: There are no ideas flowing through the pen. Mhmm producticity. Carrying on, expect I'm not using a pen. Ahhh, and yes, I changed it because both Neri and my brother put a good point. 5 metres it too big, we even measured it. So I changed it to one, unless you guys think it should be otherwise. Tell me please.

As you know the drill, review review review until my heart is content. Please. Thanks to all you put this story on Alert or on your Favorites. And your reviews, SlasherFanatic26, Galantria, Neri, and my chum LoserLove, you guys are awesomeee! Thanks again guys - and to all you others, review please. I would really appreciate it.

-Fallen11angel

(Yuki Sohma my love)


	7. First Blood

**Battle Royale – A Game To Remember**

_Chapter Five_

* * *

The air was humid, with the slight chill of the mist that was fast increasing in the atmosphere. Leon Kennedy (Boy 8) leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs, setting himself comfortably before brushing a hand through his flawlessly messed blonde hair and shifting through the bag again. The leaves rustled a greeting in the soft wind, disconcerting and awakening. For a few minutes, there was nothing but the sound of hands searching through the rucksacks noisily and the fading shine of Patrick Newport's (Boy 11) torch just to see something in the pitch black of the night. He shut it off again with a loud "click", surrounding them in shadows when he knew that what he had found wasn't a weapon. The rummaging continued, and it was done in complete silence: since the boys only seemed to talk when completely necessary, only in the clear exceptions of a few times in class when Leon was sometimes willing just to spare Joyce (Girl 8) a few words.

All in all, the two best friends were completely poles apart, but not enough to the degree that it was no longer obvious that they would get along well – because they did, and each knew what the other would be thinking, unintentionally. Leon, tall, handsome and a generally nice guy beneath his affirmed toughness – he held the piercing blue eyes, and the toned body. Patrick, who was taller, also attractive with mid-length hazel brown hair and brown eyes - was less toned, sort of lanky, more toward the undernourished side. Not generally nice, unlike his best friend, he was slightly malevolent and bad tempered - which proved to fail him in times of frustration.

Thankfully Leon was quick to be at his side and strong enough to held him back. As well, to add to the Leon versus Patrick comparisons, Patrick's voice, thick with anger and in a trademark British accent, was unlike Leon's soft all-American voice. When Patrick's voice would give his emotions away with a mutter, Leon's was more reserved and hard to read.

So far, they had managed to walk into the darkest, thickest part of the forest given that they knew that most people wouldn't find them in that area for a while at least. Their metal collars lit up every once in a while, and now they both knew the full extent of the area they were allowed in – they quickly learned their limits and found some tree roots to rest on after an hour or two. Before another silence invaded them again, Patrick slumped the bag onto his lap with an irritated grunt and began his slow shifting through his bag, as if to study everything he had extra carefully.

The light flashed on again, but for longer this time around, as Patrick looked at the map and Leon caught a glimpse of the eagerness in his eyes for a moment. Though he was still unsure of what the eagerness was for, perhaps to help others or for the more likely side of him, to play the game. The bloody game of death and heartlessness – it seemed pretty sick.

Patrick hadn't mentioned it, but Leon knew him far too well to know exactly how much the guy would love to finally have the chance to play revenge on all those who had frustrated him in any way - and that's what scared Leon, even just the slightest to make him flinch… because he knew Patrick's list of hopeless souls, of by heart.

Basically, everyone in class who was becoming fond to Leon, but was equally becoming more disgusting to Patrick – while the scale skied up one way, it stooped down the other. A no win situation? Maybe… He had the full capability of killing anybody he wanted, and he was in full swing of choosing who he was going to come after first. It could be anyone.

"Found anything?" Leon asked sternly, pulling a medium sized knife out of the bottom of his rucksack, he wasn't shocked or anything of the sort, just half-glad to have something of protection. He immediately tucked it into his belt strap for safekeeping: tapping it lightly with his finger and tracing its outline to check its sharpness, it was very sharp, that was for sure. Though there was no real intention of using it, there was no hesitation to be taken in any drastic case. Leon was met by a lack of response as Patrick growled and pulled a light yellow bottle out of his own bag, its light shade luminous in the shadow ever so minutely. He threw him a questioned look, but he knew that his companion had not the ability to see through a few metres of complete darkness. But somehow, he sensed it.

Patrick threw the item back into his bag angrily, almost smashing it in the process. Leon heard him get up and stomp around to try and calm himself in the ways that he was taught how. Even form the distance; Leon could hear him kicking forcedly at the dirt beneath his feet and pretty soon, the smell of musky sand hit his nostrils full force. He resisted the urge to cough violently, but instead waved the space in front of him blindly to fan the air away. He heard Patrick's wicked laugh, further than he expected he was and barely stiffened, yet letting his hand drop down to its original position.

"Lotion. I've got a damn bloody baby lotion!" He growled, but almost playfully rather than the angry side that Leon was expecting to hear, he made a face, "It's all yellow and gay! What do they want me to do? Kill or wipe my enemies' butts until they're super soft!" He chuckled again, but almost silently this time. The joke failed to amuse Leon.

"Bastards…" Patrick murmured. He picked up his bag, swinging it onto his shoulders and leaning against a tall oak tree. Leon followed, standing and walking over in his direction, but still far enough away to keep at a safe distance. He played with the knife by his hip and thanked the lack of light so that the blade wouldn't give away its position.

"What do you have?" Patrick asked, on tenterhooks and shocking his friend out of the long silence. The trees rustled again, but so noisily it was deafening. The humid atmosphere disappeared and was replaced with a icy wind. The mist was heavy now, and with every moment they took, it seemed to slap a thin layer of water on their faces.

Leon hesitated for a brief second, whether to lie or just to tell the honest truth. Each way wouldn't probably end to well anyway, if he lied, it would be likely for Patrick to lash out on him; but if he told the truth, Patrick would most definitely try to take it. With all sureness, though by telling the truth eon could hold of the fight for a bit longer. Then, as if from nowhere, his voice was clear and sure, "A medium sized, army-knife." He stated, in so many words.

Patrick laughed again, almost happily, but the element of evilness was present all the same. He waited for the noise of the leaves to subside before walking off towards a southwest direction, sure that Leon would follow without a word.

"I'm sure we could still take them out with that measly weapon…" Patrick said, almost inaudibly so that even Leon had to strain his ears. When the leaves returned to their still absence of noise, there was yet again, nothing but the distant sound of footsteps and the earth colliding. The leaves were silent, in fear of blood to spill again. An island tired of the horrors that were brought yearly upon its cold, empty soils.

* * *

Jared Ridge (Boy 13) took a step back, the loud sound of his feet shuffling in thick sand scraping the surrounding landscape, echoing with a bounce on the rocky hills close to the coast. After looking backwards a few times, he inwardly decided it was safe to claim this piece of land here on the beach – at least just for the night. It was almost dark, and the mist crept up the beach in the most eerie way possible, at least here he would still be able to use the light horizon's light, rather than having only his own shadow for company. Yeah, that's what he was thinking. At that moment, the sky glowered into a deep purple, that it was almost black, from a few hundred miles; the sun winked its final farewell and departed in to the unknown.

He stretched a hand backwards, his long fingertips meeting with the cold texture of rock – Jared leant back against it and rested on for a brief minute or so. His back, his neck and his arms were suddenly scorched, as icy lips of stone kissed them. The burning turned into a sense of relief. He sighed.

His eyes darted around again, his fingers clutching his bag; he swung it over his body and sat down, leaning on the cold rock. He ceased to slide downwards the solid aid as he prodded the outer layer of his schoolbag, its square shape, ragged and used over the years of being owned, gave him some comfort. Once settled down, he used the long sleeve of his blazer to wipe the slight trickle of sweat from his lower neck before he shook it of him and threw it to his side. He did the same with his jumper.

Jared let out a deep exhale watching the steam dance around his face, and he shivered. With a slight glitch of hope he dug out his cell phone and flipped it open hastily. He met the black screen and tried to restart it several times, with no anticipation, it was out of service _and_ battery. With so much luck.

He groaned and chucked the cell phone as far as he could, feeling the joint of his shoulder click with the force, so far he thought he heard it shatter against the hard large rocks across the beach. His feature broke into a pout gladly, without fear of anyone seeing because there was less and less hopefulness of not playing this game entirely. Somehow, somebody was forcing them to play.

And he had to help those who he knew would be willing to do otherwise.

"Maybe if…" His thoughts were abruptly cut off by the crunching of footsteps nearby.

His head shot up, and he forgot to continue breathing. His stiff position he lifted his weapon, a Taser, toward the direction of the noise. But dropped it slowly when he knew that he would not be able to use it anyway. He was not the guy to kill, let alone hurt anyone. Even if he had been a nerd all his life, he had no need to climb the social ladder as others did. And even revenge wouldn't taste so sweet to him.

He was a nice guy. There was no escaping the nature, though sometimes he tried to fight against.

The footsteps got closer, louder… and he even heard the murmur of several voices. Most likely to be a group of people walking together leisurely. He didn't want to take a sudden chance. Jared tried to sink deeper into the now warmed up, rock but his legs only moved to stand, his legs shaky they almost chattered.

"Leave me alone Phoebe!" A husky voice, yelled from beside him and the crunching subsided for a moment. There was a whimper.

Jared slid to the opposite side of the rock, away from the voices, his arm outstretched again with the Taser. His eyes scattered the scene for any more sign of movement.

Suddenly, the shuffling through the stony beach continued, the voices louder, casual. He picked out a few familiar voices.

"How long is this going to last, huh?" A shrill tone of voice rang out, questioning the others. Phoebe Miller (Girl 9). She was not the kind of person Jared would feel comfortable with right now, and it very much sounded like she had managed to find the rest of the clique too. He peeked sneakily from the side of the rock to watch, his arm stopping a little.

He saw the silhouettes trudging at a snail's pace across the place where he just sat. Their distances measured - cautious. There were four? Which meant some of the gang were missing… three to be exact. Looked like the most annoying of them all was absent from the rest of her "worthy" followers. Jared eased a little, scooting over to hide from them more thoroughly.

"Would you think we could kill each other?" The husky voice returned, making Jared and the others jump. The voice belonged to none other than the Captain of the varsity jocks, Eddie Campbell (Boy 3). Jared could almost picture him in his usual stance; medium height, bulky in areas of muscle and short cropped dark hair. He was unpleasant to all the people he possibly could at school, which gave him the element of fear. An advantage.

There was a loud thud and a crash as the stone flew away as someone fell over, face first. Jared heard the shimmering of the stones and the silence from the group.

"Shit!" A guy cursed.

Beep! Beep! A recognizable ring flowed out the scene.

"Get off me Steven!" The beeping stopped.

A fury of footsteps prodded toward the noise and halted, "What the fuck just happened?" The deep voice demanded. There was a series of groans and shuffling – people getting to their feet.

Steven Kingman (Boy 9) the source of the entire racket, coughed loudly before speaking, his voice higher than Eddie's but croakier, "I tripped over something man!"

"Yeah and then fell on me!" A girly voice demanded attention.

"Shut up Faith! No one cares!" Steven retorted, louder.

"What was it?" Eddie continued. A flashlight turned on, lighting the surroundings and showing my being, despite my attempt to hide from them.

"Should I run?" Jared thought, his mind racing ahead.

"It was a bag?" Phoebe asked curiously, finally rejoining the conversation and kicking Jared's bag.

"Jared!" Faith Rose (Girl 12) screamed. She took a step towards him, but stopped when she thought he was going to run. He dropped the Taser to the ground, but he couldn't run. A series of gasps subjected towards him. They started talking to him, bickering, asking questions and whatever their mouths could get out. Their lips moving at high speed, and circling him enquiringly.

"What are you doing here?"

* * *

Olivia Warred's (Girl 19) dark, ivory hair billowed menacingly in the wind. She backed up towards a clearing, knowing all too well that someone followed her here. Her pale skin lit up once the moon's light reflected off it and she knew that hiding herself would do no good now. It was hopeless.

Somebody hissed as they appeared from out of the black trees, snarling at her new victim. Sophie Young (Girl 20) her long hair, scrawled everywhere and her straight cut bangs dripping with blood from a cut across her forehead. The crimson fluid flowed down her face, crossing her eye lid and her left cheek. Her teeth were stained by it too. Olivia flinched as the girl in front of her smiled, baring a wide set of perfect teeth.

Olivia's eyes followed down the blood, scattered across her uniform, her skirt hitched and her shoes worn from running. Had she killed someone already?

Sophie had both hands gripped onto a dirty butcher's knife… a meat cleaver. And it was pointed, directed in her path. Olivia's hockey stick would be no match for that. She continued to walk backwards, feeling her doom to arrive soon.

Squish. Squish. The wet earth protested as the two girls stepped lightly upon it.

As Olivia took another steady step backwards, Sophie was gone. Running, or more like flying at a winds speed to her back. Olivia roared out in pain as a deep knife cut transversely across her spine. Her legs gave way to both surprise and ache, as she fell; her knees collided violently onto the grass.

There was a cackle.

She had to fight back somehow. Stay alive if she could. Olivia laid down, her back not being able to sustain any more weight and she saw, from the corner of her eye that Sophie was getting ready to strike again, a crazy, psycho look in her almost red eyes. Olivia choked, picking up her stick and whacking the girl across the nose just in time. Sometimes cracked.

However it did nothing. Sophie straddled the poor girl, who was choking something like a misunderstanding to the current situation. Olivia gurgled in hurt as Sophie stabbed her, twisting, a hundred times in the neck. Each time blood spurting out and covering the predator even more the thin layer of her craved liquid. Her eyes widened excited as she kept plunging the knife in, clunks flying until there was hardly anything left in the neck. A gaping hole greeting the lit eyes of Sophie Young.

She laughed wickedly, and finally got her first taste of the ever wanted blood.

She wanted. And was going to win…

* * *

Time

_3 hours played_

_68 hours left_

Dead

Male: _None_

Female: _Olivia Warred (Girl 19)_

Remaining

38 students

* * *

_A/N :_ I thoroughly apologize for the delay, for I was on vacation my dear readers. And of course, suddenly fanfiction was acting up and wouldn't save my chapter. Grrr. Also if anyone has heard of Twilight- ehem, the best book ever. I have also been buying and reading that obsessively over my few days. I'm now on the last book, but no one cares.. So read read read it. I hope its half good. Since my writing seems rusty. Poor Olivia, but I guess someone needed to die.

Okay, Character? Which one to talk about? Why not Patrick, who is note to you is my younger brother! Ha! Gotcha, didn't I? Well, he isn't as bloodthirsty as I write but I based his character on his obsessive instinct and manner when he plays gory video games and such. When he's muttering to himself about crappy weapons and all sorts of killing people. He's fun to watch. So there's Patrick. He told me in confidence the other day to kill his character with some sort of amusement. So I shall do that. Hehe…

You know how it goes, revieeeeeew until my heart bursts. Please. Thank you to all who put this story on Alert or on your Favorites. And for your insightful reviews, SlasherFanatic26, Mosvie 2k8, sovereignty'd, and Cross-eyed-Kelly… namely Joyce and that awesome nickname I gave her. You guys are wonderful! Thanks again to all - and to the others, review please. I would really love it. Also to "nope" thanks, but that was slightly harsh. Hmm.

Thanks guys. :D

-Fallen11angel


	8. Running, Stumbling And Searching

**Battle Royale – A Game To Remember**

_Chapter Six_

* * *

There was somebody there; she knew it and she carried on jogging through the foul-smelling marsh, trying to hide what she knew. It was sea green, making it hard to depict what was what and how she could escape. Nevertheless, she was quick to avoid the muddy sandpits. She zigzagged along messily and kept her eyes on the opening about five hundred or so metres away. But the obstacles were large dead trees and bursting bubbles of slimy mud, it was near impossible. Or not? She was fully aware of the filth splashing around to her knees, until she was practically wading. Her long white socks and sneakers splattered now and then. Her school skirt and proudly worn uniform had turned a colour from navy blue to brown.

Lucy Allen (girl 2) was never anything special, never outstanding at anything and she was just okay at everything. Sports, school and her social life were all average – and she always managed to keep a hefty balance between everything that was supposed to matter. In other words, she was perfectly normal. Now she was pulling through, not sure who was in reach behind her or why?

But this thing was real, and was something that was too crazy to believe. Something that was on the list of things you would never imagine happening to somebody like yourself.

Her ears picked up the breathing behind her, one deep and one shallower – there were two. She pumped her legs harder to get away, and did well. Her distance from them increasing drastically as she broke sweat. She couldn't look back, but had to keep going no matter who it was. Not now, she had to run, faster than Nathan Wakefield (boy 19) who beat the regional record.

She was on a home run, fast and it was perfect. Lucy clutched onto her bag strap tightly and pulled it closer to her back, stabling it and trying to push on further.

"Lucy!" cried a voice, sounding far from her. Out of breath and tired. It sounded almost pleading and soothing.

She took a wrong step and stumbled forwards, until her knees collided with the soft mud and she churned in it. She cried out loud, as she attempted to pull her body out of it, but she was stuck - glued onto it. She yelled even louder, twisting and tugging at her upper body and got it out eventually, slime from her chin downwards. It felt disgusting.

With her free hand she tried to claw her body out and reach for her weapon tucked inside her sock. A sharp shard of large glass.

"I don't want to die!" She screamed desperately, and her voice cracked giving the rest of her sentence time to echoe against the slumps of forestry. Lucy pulled out her legs and left her right shoe behind and her rucksack. She didn't care she needed to survive this. It was no time to think of appearances or the pain that soared through her leg.

"Stop Lucy!" The voice cried again, but she was too fast even for him and she darted the last distanced into the clearing, perhaps even feeling the cool touch of fingers against the tips of her hair.

Her heart was pumping so loudly in her ears it was unfortunate that she heard nothing but the wind that hit her from both sides.

Lucy was gone, running at full throttle even though she was losing her last ounces of energy and adrenaline – with a possible twisted ankle and blood dripping from her palm from holding her glass too hard, she escaped into the next section of the island. Section 1C, hopefully a good place to hide.

* * *

"Riley?" She asked, looking up at him from the bottom of the willow he was sitting on a branch of. He didn't reply or look down at her, blank unusual features appeared on his pale face. He just stared into the distance searching for something. Or somebody.

Emma Cliffe (Girl 5) sat herself down in a pile of autumn coloured leaves and lay down so she could stare at the orange sky. Her hair sprawled and matched exactly the same colour as the sky. It was like her hair was the sky, in the way it swayed and in the way it reflected around her. The sun was about to rise again, beautifully and unknowingly starting a new horrid nightmare for however many students were still left on this island – she was also staring at Riley Brown (Boy 2), because he had always been the one for her. They'd known one another since the other was born.

And she wanted to always be close to him, but these collars stopped that from happening now that people needed it the most.

It was just the way his eyes glimmered for something diminutive, for something that nobody else could see. He was always so kind and totally the brains, but always staying modest about it. Of course, his kindness was already made a good example even after the horror of the storm, he had gathered both their things and because Emma could barely even handle the weight of it anymore – he carried both of their belongings in his own backpack, and if possible would hold her hand to guide her too, since she found it easy to lose her way. But certain circumstances disallowed contact at this moment.

"Rile, you haven't slept all night... I'm sure we'll find Jared." She said trying to be comforting, her voice was hoarse from being unused but she didn't care. Riley finally looked down, responded and jumped out of the tree to retrieve the large bag that was their object for some sort of survival. He landed beside her but took one large, clumsy stride away before the collars even had time to light.

"Then let's get going..." He uttered, before outstretching his hand and then drawing it back to himself again. His face scrunched in apology – another show of kindness, so he merely beckoned her instead, smiling brightly. That smile, was enough to make only her heart melt.

Well, for those who had prejudice in their systems and knew the school hierarchy - Jared, Riley and Emma were not one of the "cool or popular" ones. Just kids... really smart kids in the background of the crowd and ones that were not considered important. Which Emma was alright with because didn't want to be seen at all by anyone but Riley.

Lucky for their protection though, Riley had received a silver pistol, with extra bullets and such from his pack – but Emma knew he would never have the heart to use it, ever. He could have fooled her though, since he had tucked into his belt so professionally, it would have looked like he actually knew about all this stuff. Emma, however, was alright enough to receive three additional bottles of water, which actually sported well in Riley's eyes, and talk of surviving together. He was up for more equipment of survival rather than weapons of any kind.

He walked forward and she followed him, at a close yet far distance from him.

"You think Jared's alright?" He asked, laughing quietly to himself, still walking ahead and possibly if she could see his eyes, they would be hovering all over the place.

She tried to balance herself again as she tripped over a log and almost fell right onto his back, so she stopped for a second and watched him continue without a clue, "I'm sure he can take care of himself!" She called out as she started to walk again, slowly but surely, "Remember that time he stuck up for us at school? He ended up trying to punch Patrick but hit the wall instead!" She laughed aloud just a second earlier than Riley did.

"Yeah, then he broke his wrist and couldn't even stand six weeks without being able to move it!" He laughed noisily again at the memory, although afterwards his face saddened. He twisted around so quickly to face Emma that she almost hit into him again. Taken aback, she jumped back, but slipped, fell and landed on her butt. She cursed silently as she rubbed her aching back and looked up at Riley. His face was stern, which meant he had something to say.

And for some strange reason, he didn't even notice the fall, at all. It was a little bit like he was staring at her, but not even seeing her there anyway.

"Emma... I know I'm no Dean Acre or even close to Jared... but I'm gonna protect you! Were gonna get through this hellhole of a situation! Okay?" He half demanded, half asked. The look in his brown eyes looked determined and his hand were now clenched fists.

Emma stood up, but had to remember to step backwards and not forwards, "Hey! I know you're not, that's because we all know and love you, for you Riley! I'm sure we can get through this. I'm sure you can get through this! Heck, you are the strongest guy I know." She stopped, blushed and looked away from him and through the trees. The light was flickering through in rays and though it gave the feeling of peace and serenity, she felt the most horrible gut feeling. She forced a smile as she turned to him again.

Riley just chuckled, amused at what she said. The serious facial expression was now replaced for a much brighter smile than before; he turned around and started a faster pace of walking this time.

"Strong- I wish!" He teased, almost brushing aside the remark.

* * *

"Shit! We need to do something now!" Peter Mayes (Boy 10) roared over several screams from both girls and boys that began to freak in panic. He knelt down into the dirt quickly, and the dust particles rose up, he bent over to the girl who was now currently having a vicious attack due to not having her medication. Somehow, to their luck, the medication which suppressed her dangerous inside-eating illness. He tried to examine her without actually setting off the trigger and killing potentially a lot of other people around him within a short space of time even.

"Damn!" He cursed again, as her eyes rolled back into her head and all you could see were the whites of them. Blood began to stream out of her mouth from the effects of her illness doubling up inside her body, possibly because of the disease she'd been diagnosed with when she was four or even because she was biting her tongue until it bled due the spasms that now occurred.

Her seizure peaked to a point of extremity and Peter had no idea what to do – but he needed to help her. He shut his eyes and without thinking, took her head with his strong hands to keep it still and at least the bleeding stopped. For now...

Her friend, Megan Bourne (Girl 3) ran up to them, her breathing quick and shallow, like panic, just as two of their collars lighted - and as the sky's deep red and orange glow surrounded them as in peeped over the cliffs, so did the laser-like light of the metal choker. Engulfing the area and people in it like blood seeping over under their own feet.

"Did anyone see if Faith brought her injections, or even her pills in her schoolbag or something?" She screamed at the people around her, unable to find any sense of calm in her system and began to feel terror when she saw people shake their heads... unable to answer with any of the words she hoped for them to utter. Also at the small puddle of blood forming underneath her friend's head, which she noticed from the corner of her eye as she looked away from the crowd behind her, to hide her unshed tears.

This was too much to deal with, these people just needed to get the hell away for a second. Nevertheless, when they did step back a few inches, Megan regretted asking for the space. She stood between the people and the centre of the circle, where two figures where nothing more but red unmoving statues.

Space and silence meant the coming of something bad... a striking ominous feeling. Death unhurriedly sprang to her mind.

Megan threw herself down beside the girl on the floor, unable to feel the scratching of her knees over the grit and making them scab... bleed. She was no longer able to feel her heart beating or her lungs breathing, she didn't even want to try. After giving Peter a worried look with her wide grey eyes, she lifted Faith's blonde- but blood stained hair and there, saw the origin of the second trail of blood. Her hair, which was usually soft and silky, was now sticky and tangled together by blood. A third collar light joined the party.

"She hit her head when she fell?" Peter asked, after seeing the look on her face. He solemnly remembered when Faith's attack began and how she had just collapsed over a bunch of rocks that the group were passing by, and also the loud crack of a sound that caused them all to turn around in the first place. It was a horrifying sound, now imprinting in his head, playing over and over like a broken record.

Megan had no words to say, because they were stuck in her throat, even when she tried to clear it three or more times, so she nodded instead, trying to think of any other solutions. Suddenly, as if the situation wasn't ghastly enough, Peter's collar began to beep, like a timer. A high pitched ticking for each second that passed by, a sound so deafening and frightening all you wanted to do was curl up and scream. It was like claws on a blackboard, so horrifying, so painful; all three pairs of their ears abruptly began to bleed too. As if whoever made this game, was trying to make sure they would die slowly and painfully for their offence. The light on his neck was no longer just a light red beam but a countdown, forming the shapes of numbers... 10... 9... 8... 7...

"Move!" Megan screamed at the top of her lungs, finally finding a voice inside her even if it was hoarse with concealed cries and screams of pain. Peter lunged back and only stopped when his back hit a large rock still nearby the scene, but far enough for the collar to respond well to the distance– it stopped beeping and the light had gone out almost immediately, leaving him just a shadow while he watched the last two remaining lit ones. He ignored the searing pain in his back, possibly from the impact of him against the sharp rock and watched on with fearful glazed eyes.

But Megan stood up and went around again another time, screaming now in hysterics and tears streaming down her face, leaving traces of now clean lines on her dirty skin. She had to save her friend at whatever cost, she was her friend after all…

"Has anyone got any form of medication? Come on speak up!" She screeched at people repetitively, but desperate to help, or slow down the process of Faith actually dying like this. In so much pain, and in a place like this shitty island, and trying to stay out of this stupid game.

Her choker went black and silent for a seconds worth as she stepped out of the boundary line, although it relit once she fled back to Faith on the floor, her own mind filled with so much thoughts that she hadn't even realized the warning on their necklaces repeat the timer of one minute. Without Peter to hold her face, Faith had began to tremble again, more vigorously than the first time and the blood practically was gushing out in all directions – her mouth, the back of her head and her ears. If she wasn't going to die of not having her medication, then she was going to get an infection for sure in the scar on her head. She was a lost cause... a goner.

Suddenly, the ten second countdown restarted on two victims like a deathly déjà vu. Except Megan was too busy trying to hold Faith down to see; she was trying to save a life so selflessly. Why did this have to happen to the good people? Always, and for once doesn't a good guy win?

"Megan! Move!" Peter screamed, and his voice broke as several others took steps away from the pair, retreating loudly into the nearby inhabited sections of the island. Separating the group and stupidly, splitting up unlike the vow they had all taken to stick together – and first sign of trouble, they were running.

"Move!" He repeated, his voice more thunderous than it had ever been used. It stretched on for a second and beyond but it felt like hours flickering away as the last tick went off with a loud screech, and then without even another second to spare in mercy the collars blew. Sending blood splatters everywhere in each direction, covering a full circumference.

Now Faith was lying there unmoving, with a new wound for the blood to escape her vessels from. Megan was, just as limp half lying on her friend, and if weren't for witnessing the death itself taking them in a minutes time, it could have looked like they were embracing. If it also weren't for the blood and so much of it too, and that all within a two metre fringe was now soaking with the familiarity of red liquid, that before this days, had never been seen by a person in so much quantity. It would have looked like two friends were finally reunited after a hardship or a war.

But they weren't. They were just dead.

Faith never got to say goodbye, and neither did Megan.

Peter half walked, half dragged himself over to the pair and slouched in the puddle of now murky blood. His hands were stained instantly as he placed them onto the ground in front of him to hold himself up.

It was silent now, but the screams were still there in his mind, like the echo of the wind against the tree barks, signalling their own songs. A crackled sob escaped his throat after the moments adrenaline subsided to a pure sense of abandonment. He was alone now. The group which ought to have survived was now dispersed. Bastards, all of them.

They didn't help at all. His arms quivered before giving away and he flopped into the cold, and slow flowing river. His eyes stared ahead from his turned head, as the blood lagged pass him and drenching him on one half.

He was exhausted and now he was alone. He swore he could have felt the blood still beating.

* * *

Time

_8 hours played_

_ 64 hours left_

Dead

Male: _None_

Female: _Faith Rose (Girl 12)_

_Megan Bourne (Girl 3)_

Remaining

36 students

* * *

_A/N :_ Aha! Finally, this chapter, is now posted! Wahoo... sorry it's late (as ever), it was because I lost my memory stick and had to rewrite the chapter as well as I could. Sorry I killed two girls again, it's just easier (and more fun to kill them). Don't ask why, it just is. Okay? I'll kill a guy next chapter, and make sure its all gore and stuff.

I'll keep my rattlings to a minimum this time, to save your souls. Please review and Thank you so much for sticking out this story even after long unknown absences. You know who you are my reviewers... Wahoo.

-Fallen11angel


	9. Play Things

**Battle Royale – A Game To Remember**

_Chapter Seven_

* * *

Out of the black dark realm, were sudden flickers of light that disturbed the peace. These flashes were mixed with both images of the time before he passed out, and during what moments he was still half awake but fully immobilized – but they were just unseen, blurry figures of faces and mumbling voices… no use to look at.

Afterwards, as he slowly gained more consciousness, and from the silence too, came a noise that got eventually louder, until it was practically the pulse in his ears - loud and stirring. What was it? What was that sound? He tried desperately to move, but a searing pain caused the flashes to begin again, as if on constant, fast motion playback. It was unnerving and violent, the pain rocketed until a peak and he screamed.

It was his damn head – it felt so hot on the left side, and it was like he had been hit with something pretty god damn hard. This time the scream was unable leave this dry mouth, so a whimper sufficed and his hands shot to the area of hurting, feeling for something - a bump, a wound… anything?

Another light raced beneath his eyelids and his large brown eyes finally opened wide, his pupils constricting immediately before, eventually becoming perfectly adapted to his darker surroundings. But the noise was still disturbing and hazy, like having the inability to concentrate on just one sense alone, now that the other was fully working. Slowly, he looked around, without moving his head and saw a group of boys around him – familiar looking boys… his classmates… some that were his friends. What the hell was going on?

"Danny?" Asked one of the boys who was holding a flashlight to his face, making it extremely difficult to see a thing properly and leaving purple spots to invade his vision instead. He heard the boy repeat his name a few more times before Danny (Boy 14) finally could hear correctly to an extent and soon reacted to the frantic calls.

Danny slowly rose and propped himself to sit half-upright against a fallen log. The crowd of boys responded in stepping away from him and back another step from each another, weary to keep their distances and playing by the game rules. He felt the forms of cold moss touching the back of his shirt, and dampness beginning to spread wherever it touched the thin fabric. The bottoms of his school pants were already muddy, along with his shoes. They squeaked like mice with each small movement.

"What the hell happened?" Danny asked, and his throat was sore, adding to the ache that he felt all over his weary body. His hand slowly reached up another time to the trickle that he felt on the side of his face, and he slid his palm across his features. The fluid still ebbed downwards, he could feel it; he felt it dripping down to his neck. He drew back the hand quickly when he felt the sting that the gentle touch had done, he brought his hand to eye level and he saw thick smears of dark blood. His heart stopped beating for almost 5 or more seconds… or was that his sense of hearing failing him again.

"I'm sorry Danny!" A male voice shouted hysterically, but it was deemed faint from the blur that seemed to veil his ears as good as cotton wool. Danny looked up, eyes widening and saw Thomas Wood (Boy 20) emerge from the shadow of the trees, sporting a baseball bat that had splatters of blood across from one spot. The blood splatter also was thinly spread across his white school shirt and his neck. It was obvious that it was not a mere coincidence that both he and the bat had something in common - meaning the guy must have hit him really hard. Obviously.

Danny wasn't the type to get angry, but suddenly his jaw clenched as if the pain was evoking his to do something stupid back to show Thomas just exactly how much he was hurting right now.

"You little shit!" Danny screamed, before curled his hands into his hair and grabbing fistfuls to both distract him from the throbbing, and to force himself from punching the guy in the face. If it weren't for the warm blood streaming down his face, he would have shivered from the icy chill of his damp back.

"I said I was sorry!" Thomas replied angrily back, taking another few steps toward him and pointing his bat into his face without thinking straight. He would have looked more menacing if his hands weren't shaking, making the bat sway from side to side.

"Stay away from him!" Chris Jones (Boy 7) yelled defensively, and snatching the baseball bat out of his willing hands, before then throwing it away into the shrubs nearby, "Look what you've done already!"

The throbbing stopped becoming just an emotion and started to also become part of the drone of sound that echoed his mind, like blood pumping. His heart in his ears. He felt sick. He wanted to throw up.

"Danny!" Chris said, turning around and kneeling in front of him, his legs sinking into the mud but it went unnoticed. Danny could only see so much through his heavy eyes, and felt like the world was spinning around him. He couldn't speak anymore. He just wanted to be alone, and find her…

Panic struck Chris' face as he got to his feet again, "How hard did you fucking hit him!" He marched over to Thomas, who was attempting to slip away into the crowd and remain unseen until something saved him. He was looking around dazed and fearful when Chris caught up with him, and grabbed a handful of his collar fiercely, "How hard did you hit him!" He screamed as their collars lit up, in the silence that fell over them all, his breathing quickened and broke the emptiness of sound.

"I don't know, I just saw someone walking towards me. I didn't know it was Dan I swear!" Thomas' voice shook, and he tried to break free from the grasp around his neck aware of the time ticking away to his near death. All he cared for right now was his self-preservation.

"Danny? Hey Chris, he's blacking out again!" Someone called out and distracting Chris from his interrogation. Thomas used this as an opportunity to jerk back and stumble as far away as he could from the group. He sat against the furthest tree, watching Danny with regretful and teary eyes - his conscience eating him up slowly from the inside.

"Hey! Danny! Wake up man!" Chris screamed, kneeling down once more, so quickly that the mud splattered when he got to his knees. He slammed his hands into the dirt to steady himself from loosing balance. But Danny instantly became limp as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, his eye lids giving way to the heaviness and the blood still silently stained his pale face.

"Danny? Danny!"

* * *

With a swift, strengthened push, the gate finally opened with a deafening creak – as if it hadn't been used in centuries. James Day (Boy 4) brushed his hands on his upper shirt sleeves to remove the traces of rust from himself. Matthew Waite (Boy 18) walked past him, his one arm outstretched in front ready for any attack, and wielding a shotgun. If he was scared, he had a good way of hiding it, he looked almost cocky.

"What is this place?" James asked, following him and stopping once he was a few metres or so distance ahead of him again. His eyes scanned over what seemed to be a children playground that looked like it had the full package if it weren't for the peeling rust. It looked like it had been used as a testing a nuclear weapon. The slide, looked ready to collapse, and the swings were shedding tiny scraps of blue paint that fluttered away every time the breeze came by them. It looked like ashes in the wind.

The silence was also broken by the swings, creaking loudly and in perfect high pitch. They continued again to walk over the thin yellow strings of grass, which crunched beneath them with every step.

"Wait." Matthew stated, blocking James from walking any further by placing the shotgun across his chest, before using it as a pointer and indicating a shoe that was lying overturned on the ground. In complacency to everything else, it looked relatively new. It was a shining white compared to all the dull colours of the playground… it was a girl's sneaker.

Matthew noticed the flicker of hope that swiftly lit up James' face. James walked quickly forwards, failing to take out his weapon just in case, so Matthew was also fast to follow in his tracks. Their heavy feet, tired from walking, creating great billows of dusty clouds that trailed behind them. But they were still silent, until James decided to call out into the cluttered playground and got no answer back.

They stood in silence as rays of golden sunshine filtered through the gaps in between the trees ahead of them. Morning had officially arrived, but the clouds still looked as grey and dull as ever, where could the sun possibly be seeping from?

Out of the silence, there was a loud screech, like the beginning of a radio broadcast…

James noticed a tall lamppost in the centre of the playground, with an intercom connected to its top. They covered their ears to block out the unpleasant sound until it ceased and was replaced by the sound of someone clearing their throat in the most familiar way. James saw Matthew straighten himself up, recognizing it too and his eyes narrowing into slits.

"Good morning boys and girls!" The broadcast began, and the woman's voice needed no introduction. Her fierce, stately voice was interrupted every once and again by the bad signal line and the intercom squeaked and cracked with age, but she continued to speak.

"If you have still managed to survive this long in the game… then that's unfortunate for you. But well done - you are officially not killing each other as quickly as I had planned. Well, you and I have now entered the second day technically, but I understand you only had last night to get used to my little game haven't you? That's surely enough time so remember the rules children. Kill one another or be killed. Only ONE of you can go home…

In other more pleasant news, we are in the eleventh hour of gaming and from now on I expect much more deaths by the hour. I will give you this broadcast each day at 6am, 12pm, and 6pm… if need be I'll see what I can contribute in your little battles. For now, I hope you get some food in you whilst I am required, to give you details of danger zones and your dead friends… boring I know.

Firstly, the danger zones for today are the south beach, square E2 on your maps if you haven't failed to lose them already. A4, in the north and finally in the west, B1… surely for those of you good with geography will be wary of not entering the squares I have just stated or…

Boom! Haha, anyway… Now for the interesting part. The first of your class to die, in order from the very first to the latest: Madison Holmes (Girl 7) who doesn't count because I killed her myself, Olivia Warred (Girl 19), Faith Rose (Girl 12), and Megan Bourne (Girl 3). Well done boys looks like you're doing well surviving. Keep it up and one of you is going home…

Oh, addition to this morning's death list, Sam Gates (Boy 5) who seems to have just committed suicide as I was speaking. One of the dead girls must have been his girlfriend or something. Too bad, he could have done so well.

Bye for now seniors..."

The broadcast ended with a momentary high pitched squeal and then an abrupt silence - Matthew let out an angry yell, kicking at the dirt beneath his feet and uprooting some clumps of dead grass. He lifted his shotgun and aimed it at the intercom, ready to shoot it in his anger with the headmistress of their school – supposedly, because she was a murderer. He hated her for doing this.

He jumped a little when suddenly James came forward and lowered the neck of his gun to aim at the ground, with a finger over his lips signalling him to keep quiet. As sure as the silence came, they heard someone's clumsy shuffling footsteps to their side nearby.

Matthew immediately got the signal, and twisted his body towards the origin of the sound, hastily aiming his gun directly at the where the mysterious visitor was. James, was about to stand behind him when he instantly got shot in the arm before he could move barely an inch. The force of the bullet sent him stumbling backwards, but after steadying himself, he quickly stood upright and clutched the wound on his upper arm. His white sleeve had now been sliced open and was staining with blood fast. He took a wide step aside to hide behind a small playhouse, as he ripped the lower half of the shirt sleeve and tied it around the cut instinctively. How had he learnt to do this? From movies maybe…

There was another gunshot, but louder this time, so that it echoed against the rusty play things, and making the metal bars ring. It must have been the shotgun. There was a loud cry and James knew that the other guy had been shot for sure.

He unhurriedly and cautiously stepped out from behind the playhouse, as he took out his small handgun, which only came with ten bullets –so he had to be wary of what to use them for. There was silence has he held out the gun with his good arm, whilst the other lay limp on the other side, still dripping with small traces of blood from the scathe. Neither Matthew nor the person they were duelling with was in sight.

A swift gasp of wind dashed by and erupted clouds of dust to scatter across the scene. James' eyes dashed from one play thing to another, checking for shadows or voices but his heart sank when he got nothing. The wind grew louder as the sun hid behind large billowing rain clouds of thick black colour. The scene went from a golden hazy glow, to monotonous sepia.

From behind, there was the sound of distant running footsteps and a crack, followed by a blunt thud of something hard hitting against the wall of an aged metal playhouse. He twisted around hastily, and pointed his weapon towards the area of the sounds origin.

He walked forward, and listening out for anymore sounds. The muffling continued and suddenly they came into view. Matthew had dropped his shotgun and it was laying a metre or so away from him, half hidden in an overgrowth of sandy long grass. His face was lit up by a red light, as his captor had him with two strong gripped hands around his neck – choking him… killing him.

Matthew had his hands gripped equally tightly onto the other guy's hands as if to try and pry them off him with all the last ounces of strength he had. He was digging his nails into his flesh in an attempt to escape, but his opponent barely flinched. His legs wavered with the lack of air and his face flushed pale.

"James…" Matthew stifled out, his voice hoarse and limited from oxygen, and his challenger struck his head into the metal wall forcefully to shut him up, as well as constrict his chokehold around his friend's neck yet further. "Shoot him!" He managed to continue, before he began coughing violently and he was struck in the face with the side of the mini pistol that his rival sported. His nose began to turn violet as it bled, trailing downwards his face and he spat out whatever blood was in his mouth.

James lifted his handgun whilst they were distracted and aimed it at the opponent whose face he could still not see. How could he shoot someone he didn't recognize? And where should he shoot?

A few seconds passed and if he didn't do something right at this moment, either both their heads would be blown, or that Matthew would succumb to suffocation. As if on cue their collars switched from a thin beam of light to numbers from ten counting downwards like a stopwatch. 10… 9… 8… 7

His hand shook, as he began to press his finger onto the trigger and waited for it go. He shut his eyes, and waited for a loud sound of collision or even the impact of the gun pushing backwards against him as it set off. Everything slowed down, and he turned his head away so that he felt like he could detach himself from what he was about to do. So he wouldn't regret it later, if something went wrong, it wasn't him. It was the gun.

What made him better that he would add to the list of his dead friends or somewhat along those lines?

"Shoot him… Save Matt." He told himself inwardly.

He lifted his bad arm, as if to punish himself with the excruciating pain, and used it to steady the gun in his other hand. Now with two hands, he set his feet at shoulder length to steady himself with the blow. He blinked, and saw Matthew struggling against the lack of air. He blinked again, as he turned his gaze to the back of his opponent. By now, he could hear no sound but silence, and the slow paced beating of his heart. He was numb with pain, and he knew that the drips of dry and thick blood were dribbling onto the sandy ground beneath him.

Time was slower, or so it felt… 3…2…

He pulled the trigger hard with a cry, and felt indeed the force that he had been waiting for all along. It knocked him back to skid a little deeper into the sandy floor. James dropped the gun, now with nine bullets and resisted his knees giving way and falling onto the floor.

* * *

Time

_11 hours played_

_61 hours left_

Dead

Male: _Unknown_

Female: _None_

Remaining

36 students

* * *

_A/N :_ Okay, sorry guys for the delay. It's because I'm currently like 3 weeks away from my GCSE's if any of you are UK readers, and I've been killing myself over studying and my art exam. Oh my God! So much work, but in any case I thought I'd upload this for you guys, and hopefully another one soon to make up for my absence.

You'll see if anyone died in the next chapter and hopefully from now on – there will be more action and stuff. Okay? Got it! ~Talking to myself, oh God! _

Review and criticize nicely now! & Many thanks to you guys once again… HuntLight and SlasherFanatic26, and everyone who added this to their Alerts etc. I owe you my fic writing life! Hehe…

-Fallen11angel


End file.
